


And I Will Be Your Man

by ann2who



Series: Say When Verse [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bottom Tony Stark, Domestic Avengers, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt Tony, Iron Man 3 Remake, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protective Steve, Snarky Tony, So Much Snark, Steve Feels, Switching, Team Dynamics, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues, Tony Is Not Helping, Top Steve Rogers, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>** Iron Man 3 AU **</p><p>** Can be read as a stand alone! **</p><p>Book 2 of the Say When series. An alternate version of Iron Man 3. After completing his undercover mission and earning Tony’s forgiveness, Steve’s life has become wonderfully peaceful. The Avengers had officially taken up their residence in New York, and—Tony’s nightmares, and occasional precarious missions aside—life was good. He was in love, and he’d never been happier. That was, until some terrorist decided to go ahead and destroy everything he’d ever fought for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [And I Will Be Your Man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543550) by [welldoer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/welldoer/pseuds/welldoer)
  * Inspired by [Say When (Fanvideo)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1292167) by [ann2who](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who). 



> ** This sequel takes place a few months after "Say When" **
> 
> ** This can be read as a stand alone. Just know that Steve went undercover in Iron Man 2 to find out what was happening with Tony. They fell in love during the mission, and while Tony felt deeply betrayed by Steve's deceit, he chose to forgive him. Steve and Tony are now in an established relationship and live with the rest of the Avengers in New York **
> 
> ** Thanks to my amazing beta-reader [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) **

  _Come across you lost and broken_

_You're coming to but you’re slow in waking_

_You start to shake._

_You still haven’t spoken, what happened_

_They're coming back and you just don’t know when_

_You want to cry but there’s nothing comin’_

_They’re gonna push until you give in, say when_

_Now we’re here and it turns to chaos_

_Hurricane coming all around us_

_Double crack throws you back from the window, you stay low_

_It all began with the man and country_

_Every plan sends another century around again_

_Another nation fallen_

_Maybe god can be on both sides_

_Of the gun never understood why_

_Some of us never get it so good, so good_

_Some of this was here before us_

_All of this will go after us_

_Never stops until we give in, give in_

_Say when_

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Steve**

 

It had been twenty-three days and five hours since they got the call from Fury. Twenty-three days and five hours since he’d pulled on his uniform and had gone down to Tony’s workshop to kiss him goodbye.

Back in the war, Steve had always had the feeling that time moved faster when you were away from home. With all the turmoil around camp, with death always hanging right above your head, he hadn’t thought much about anything other than the task at hand. And life had moved on. Months had felt like weeks, weeks like days, and days like hours.

Now that he had someone waiting for him at home, twenty-three days and five hours felt like a whole lifetime gone by.

Steve reached into the utility belt of his uniform. He released a long sigh, and began to fiddle with the little hot-rod red hexagonal handle of Tony’s favorite mini-screwdriver. It was a bit silly, really. He’d started carrying the thing around, back when he’d just recently been assigned as Tony’s personal assistant. Back when Tony had meant nothing to him. Although, thinking back on it now, the whole thing should’ve probably made him re-evaluate his feelings a bit earlier, but at the time, he’d just figured it to be some kind of weird game for dominance between them. Or at least—that’s what Steve had told himself.

Tony would _constantly_ leave the tool lying around. In the living room area in Malibu, or in his office, in the kitchen, in the gym, where he himself never set a foot in and where he _knew_ Steve would find it eventually. So Steve would swipe it, and simply wait and see how long it took Tony to come to him and ask for it. At first, it had probably been more of an accidental slip on Tony’s part, but later on, Steve was pretty sure he had been doing it on purpose. The game had ceased after the Chitauri attack, but Tony had started it up again after Fury had summoned Steve on his first single mission a few months ago.

There was never a note, just the screwdriver. But like so much else between them, the game had changed. Tony had never once asked to have it back. He wanted Steve to keep it. Instead he’d just smile, ask for it whenever he actually needed a screwdriver, and Steve would give it to him only to pocket it again afterwards.

And so it was that Tony’s screwdriver went with Steve whenever he had to leave New York. Ever since, it had become part of his daily ritual. He’d find a quiet spot and sit, reaching for the slotted tip and turning the tool around between his fingers. And he’d remember, and smile, and wish to be with Tony again. He’d think about how he had learned more about himself in the past months than he had in all his years before. He would remember how adorably disheveled Tony looked whenever he woke up next to him. How his eyes were still unfocused, how his hair was sticking up everywhere, and how the line of Steve’s tank top was often imprinted across the bottom of his jaw where he’d been asleep on him.

Nowadays—at least whenever he wasn’t on secret missions—Steve’s life involved a lot of work out, reading, grocery shopping, cooking, and evenings spent watching classic movies with his team before crawling into bed, only to start the whole cycle all over again. It was all terribly domestic and… he loved it. A lot. He figured that eventually the novelty of having a family and a steady relationship would wear off, and Tony and he would concern themselves with other things aside one another, but for him, that day wasn’t coming anytime soon. His mind was full of Tony, and he craved to touch him again, to kiss him, to hear about his day, and to laugh with him over dull TV shows.

It was his life and it was perfect. Not objectively, sure—he and Tony argued and bickered far too much for that—but to him, it was perfect.

God, he’d been gone from home for too damn long.

Behind him, in the cockpit, Natasha and Clint both snorted in unison as Steve bolted upright as soon as the Quinjet _finally_ began its descent on the landing pad of Avengers Tower.

“PDA incoming,” Clint sing-songed from the front passenger’s seat.

Next to him, Natasha nodded solemnly. “You still remember the times when he wrote extra reports for us because he didn’t have anything better to do after a mission?”

“Good times,” Clint agreed.

“Shut up,” Steve said good-naturedly, gripping the handle on his left. “Both of you.”

Clint waved a hand at him while he stood up to grab his bow and arrows. “Seriously man, you and Stark are like gibbons. You know, with the whole sad-face thing going on whenever the significant other’s not around.”

“They don’t groom each other,” Natasha observed.

Clint huffed. “ _Yet_.”

Natasha tapped her chin, and smirked at Steve. “They are often strangely entangled though.”

“Tony and I are not _gibbons_ ,” Steve grit out and forced himself not to pace around until the Quinjet finally _finally_ touched down. “We’re in love. I think it’s allowed to miss each other after a month-long mission.”

“Sure man, but the whole honeymoon phase has been stretching way over half a year now. It’s unnatural, is all I’m saying.”

“It’s not,” Natasha said, and Steve was about to thank her, when, “A high amount of sex keeps the emotional and physical desire for public affirmation and affection on a very high level—even in later stages of a relationship.”

“That’s…” Clint started, gagging. “Really not something I needed to know.”

“Can you just stop talking?” Steve pleaded, just as the signal above the rear hatch finally turned green. He pulled at the handle and felt his face automatically stretching into a huge smile while he gazed down at the platform. The very empty… very _not occupied with Tony_ platform. The smile faded and he swallowed, furrowing his brows.

“Huh, that’s new,” Clint said, patting him on the arm, before he jogged down. “Welcome to after-honeymoon-valley, pal,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Natasha walked up next to him and rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. Clint’s just being stupid. I bet something important came up.”

He felt his shoulders slump. “JARVIS would’ve told me.”

“It’s Tony, Steve. For all we know he just invented a… teleporter or a time machine, or something—or he simply forgot, it’s not the end of the world.”

It wasn’t. Steve knew that. Still. “He never forgot before,” he said while opening the door to Tony’s penthouse, which—of course—was empty as well. The place itself was a disaster, though, with endless piles of clothes, bottles and empty food cartons lying around. Next to the couch laid various spare parts of Tony’s armor, probably different components from different suits, given the varying colors.

Natasha snorted next to him. “See? He’s obviously in his mad scientist zone.”

With Tony and Bruce around, they had all gotten used to how fast a room could turn into a garbage dump whenever the scientists zeroed in on one of their projects. On normal days, they were both mindful to clean up after themselves, but whenever they had a breakthrough, all bets were off.

Natasha stepped over what probably had been a pizza once. “Besides, didn’t you guys kind of have a big fight before we departed?”

“Not a _big_ one…”

“Steve, I saw you coming out of your old room two nights in a row. You even ignored each other over breakfast, and you never—”

Steve groaned. “Yeah, okay, it might’ve been a bit worse than our usual fights, but we settled it. I think. There is no reason—”

“For someone who had a five months long 101 class on his boyfriend, you don’t know him all that much, do you?”

Steve furrowed his brows. “What?”

“It’s _Tony_. If he thought there was only a slight chance that you’re still mad at him, he was probably wallowing in his workshop the whole time, picturing all the horrible ways you’re going to break up with him once you’re back home. Of course he won’t come running to greet you.”

Steve shook his head firmly. “He knows I love him. He wouldn’t be so stupid to think that a little…” He trailed off, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah okay, he might think that.”

Natasha chuckled. “You have terrible taste in men.”

“At least I have a taste… and a man.”

“Watch it, funny guy,” Natasha said with open amusement in her voice.

Steve didn’t respond, though his lips curled into a half-pleased, half-crude grin, as he winded his arm around her.

“Come on,” she said after a beat, looking up at him, “bring your man a coffee. He’s going to need it for all the make-up sex he’s getting tonight.”

Steve felt his face heat a little but didn’t object. She did have a point there.

Natasha grinned mischievously—as always, knowing exactly what he was thinking—and leaned up to press a tender kiss on his cheek. “Tony is head over heels for you. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.” She made her way over to the elevator and grinned at him, while the doors closed.

Steve shook his head with a smile, and decided to make a little detour to the kitchen counter. He allowed himself a little smug grin as he noticed the five Christmas stockings hanging over the fireplace. There was one for each of them. A blue stocking for Steve, a red one for Tony, two little ones for the helper bots, and one huge, green stocking with binary code for JARVIS. So much for Tony’s weeklong ramble on how he didn’t want to celebrate Christmas.

Steve reached for a box of cinnamon Pop Tarts. After tearing open the package, he popped one in the toaster for Tony and nibbled on the other while he made coffee. Then, he leaned up to one of the cardboards and reached for Tony’s _My boyfriend is a super hero_ mug.

Contrary to the information in Tony’s SHIELD file, the genius actually preferred his black coffee with a spoon of sugar. It had taken Tony four months into their relationship and some heavy probing on Steve’s part to tell him that. Four months in which Tony had drank coffee he didn’t like, just because he had somehow convinced himself that he would disappoint Steve by telling him to put some sugar in next time.

By now, Steve thought he had a pretty good grasp on how Tony’s mind worked. That, sadly enough, also meant he’d accepted that most of the times there was no way to tell where Tony’s line of thoughts were going. One month was a hell of a lot time, and if Natasha was right, and Tony had been brooding the whole time, there was no chance to predict what he had talked himself into by now.

Steve shuddered a sigh, then tensed when he heard the door of the elevator open again. He drew in a sharp breath, but the elevator was empty. Christ. For all the longing, all the waiting, and begging the cosmos for some divine intervention to end the mission sooner, he now felt anxiety all but frying his nerves.

Suddenly, there was some sort of binging sound from the elevator that could only be described as impatient.

“JARVIS?” Steve asked with a confused brow.

Nothing.

A half weary, half amused smile crept onto Steve’s face. He grabbed the coffee and Pop Tarts, and walked over to the elevator. As soon as he stepped into the cabin, the beeping stopped.

“He told you not to talk to me, didn’t he?”

Silence.

Slowly, Steve glanced up at the little light of the elevator’s camera, and fought back a smile, when, a moment later, it started to blink rapidly. Long, short, long, long, short, short, short, short. _Yes._

Steve huffed. “Real mature, Tony,” he mumbled. Then, on a second thought, he started to tap his thumb against the handrail.

_Will he even talk to me?_

The camera started to blink again.

_He is stubborn, not masochistic._

Steve snorted, and leaned his head against the wall of the elevator.

“Workshop, please,” he said into open air and took a deep breath as the elevator started to descend.

Only one way to figure this out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The workshop was unusually quiet—no music, no DUM-E-trashing, no nothing. Instead, Tony sat quietly at one of his working desks, his back towards the doors, his whole body hunched over a few papers. Even from this distance, Steve could see the tension in his shoulders.

The doors to the shop opened automatically and as expected, JARVIS didn’t even announce his presence. Another proof that Natasha was right and that Tony had expected him after all, and now actively gave him the cold shoulder.

From the other side of the workshop, a soft whirring sound echoed through the open space, as the bots moved in fast circles around one of Tony’s pressure test chambers. Steve grinned. Watching DUM-E and U play tag with each other would never cease to amaze him.

“Hey,” he called into the room in general as he walked in. He raised the mug and plate when Tony turned around in his chair with an obvious faux-surprised expression. His eyes were bloodshot, and for the fracture of a second wide with relief and joy, then dulled as he obviously realized it was something he’d meant to hide. Steve smiled inwardly. Tony was a lot of things, but a good actor wasn’t one of ‘em. At least not when it came to Steve.

“I brought you coffee,” Steve told him, while he slowly walked closer.

DUM-E and U stopped in their tracks and rushed towards him with excited little screeches that never ceased to amuse him. “Yeah, _you_ missed me, huh?” Steve chuckled and tried to balance plate and mug in a hand while he petted both claws in front of him.

“You’re back,” Tony said with a tight little smile. “Shit, sorry, must’ve slipped my mind. How was the mission? Kuwait still standing? Any _actual_ leads on the Mandarin, this time?”

Steve rolled his eyes at how bad Tony was with his fake casualness. Steve stood back and watched him. His body was tensed, frustration rolling off him in waves. “No leads, no,” he said. “He just left another of his little surprise parties for us.”

Tony hummed, clearly trying to look only mildly interested. “Not much of a surprise party anymore, eh? You fine, though? I should’ve kept a closer look on your status…”

Steve snorted. “Sweetheart, you realize you gave me full access to JARVIS, right? That means I can ask him to tell me whenever you’re checking up on me,” he said. JARVIS had certainly not been reluctant—probably even a little bit too gleeful—to admit that Tony checked Steve’s status about eighty times a day.

Tony cringed visibly, and a light pink covered his cheeks, as he brushed a hand through his messy dark hair. “I actually… didn’t think you’d do that… no. So…” He cleared his throat. “Might as well… How’s your arm?”

Up close, Tony looked even more tired and worn, but that wasn’t really a surprise. These days, Tony always seemed to be tired. “Barely a little sore…” He rotated his right shoulder and swung his arm back and forth. “See, no pain. No need to worry.”

 _Finally_ , the mask of indifference on Tony’s face crumbled with a deep, slightly shaky breath. He fully turned his chair around and the schooled expression was now replaced with exactly that—intense, unadulterated worry. The second Steve was in arm’s reach, Tony’s fingers gingerly rolled up his sleeve, a thumb sweeping over the still tender skin there. “The burn must’ve been real bad if it hasn’t healed by now.” He sighed deeply. “Damn it, Steve. I hate these close calls, _especially_ when I’m not by your side.”

Steve put the coffee and the Pop Tart down on one of the few empty spots on the desk and shrugged. “I know. I didn’t mean to worry you. They surprised me, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” Tony grumbled, and reached for the mug, taking a small sip. “I know you were pulling Barton out of the way. You knew damn well that you’d take the hit.”

At that, Steve looked up sharply. “How—”

Tony sighed, shrugging. “I may or may not have installed a little transmitter in your uniform before you left.”

Steve huffed, but couldn’t find it in him to be too annoyed. “Of course you have.” He slowly crouched down in front of Tony. Then he simply closed his arms around the other man’s torso and leaned his forehead against his chest, breathing in deep.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he mumbled into Tony’s chest. And it wasn’t enough. There were no words in this world to describe how much he’d craved this exact moment.

A light tremble seized Tony’s body. Then Steve felt callused fingers almost desperately stroking over his shoulders—felt the way Tony’s whole body went limp against him a second later, a shuddering breath leaving his lips as he kissed Steve’s neck in something that could best be described as surrender.

Tony’s voice was very quiet when he spoke up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t come upstairs to greet you. I haven’t forgotten, obviously. I thought about you every second since you left. I was just… insecure and stupid… and I should’ve been there.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah, you should’ve,” he said, and looked up into Tony’s beautiful eyes. “And it _was_ stupid to think I didn’t want you there.” He leaned forward and kissed the oil stained skin on Tony’s cheek. “I’ll _always_ want you there—even if I’m angry. I want you there no matter what, Tony.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Silence settled around them and it was enough. Enough to just be here… to be with each other, to finally be _together_ again.

When Steve opened his eyes again, his gaze dropped down on the blueprints that were stretched out on the working desk behind Tony. For a moment, he considered simply not asking about it, to just ignore it for once, but he’d promised himself that things wouldn’t become like that between them. He didn’t want to turn a blind eye on Tony’s work just because they weren’t seeing eye to eye on this.

He didn’t want them to become indifferent.

Also, he had to admit—most of the time, he was genuinely excited about the newest suits. Aside for all these long, tedious arguments about whether or not Tony was pushing himself too hard—the idea of various independent, self-contained suits was _incredible_. He couldn’t even _imagine_ all the good things they could be doing with their help. How many people they could save.

He leaned up a bit to nuzzle Tony’s neck with his nose, and took a deep breath. “Which number is that?” he asked then, trying to sound unbiased about the whole thing.

It wasn’t of any use though. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt Tony tense in his arms—and that was all the answer he needed. Natasha had been right, then—which, yeah, no surprise there at all. Tony was obviously still thinking about their last fight, and okay, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a point to tense up at the memory. It had been bad. Worse than any of their fights so far. And lately, the suits had been the reason for all of their screaming matches. It was a topic that neither of them liked to even bring up anymore—and one that had led to half a dozen lonely nights already. And every time they argued about it, it seemed to be getting worse.

It wasn’t about the suits though, no matter what Tony seemed to think. Well, not really. It was more about the fact that Tony tried to hide his real problems behind his new shiny toys that made Steve really lose it from time to time.

Tony sighed heavily, pulling Steve’s palm to his mouth and kissing the skin there. “That’s Mark Thirty-One,” he answered eventually. “It’s a… high velocity suit. Twenty-two point six times faster than all the other suits and with much shorter response times. It’s pretty awesome actually.”

“Mmm…” Steve hummed, not doubting that in the slightest. Still. That meant Tony had finished _six_ new suits since Steve had departed on his mission. Considering the time Tony usually needed from a first quick idea to the actual built, minus the hours he normally would spend with him upstairs eating, sleeping or doing other things, he’d probably needed only three point five days for one suit. Three point five days without any kind of rest, of course. Steve had been gone for over thirty-three days… so Tony had slept only about forty-eight hours maximum—assuming he’d told him the truth, of course. “Alright, genius,” he declared, shoving both hands under Tony’s armpits to pull him upwards. “Time to go to bed. You can tell me all about it while drooling on your pillow.”

Tony snorted but didn’t even struggle as Steve pressed Tony’s whole body against his chest and walked them both over to the elevator. While they made their way through the shop, the holograms all around them started to fade, a silent affirmation that Tony didn’t _really_ object to the way things were progressing. Knowing him, he’d somehow even expected this.

“So,” Tony said after a few seconds. “Does that mean you’re not gonna verify the number with JARVIS this time?”

Steve sighed loudly, pressing the button on the wall and letting Tony down as they waited for the elevator to arrive. So they were talking about this, after all.

“I told you, if you feel the need to lie to me, there is nothing I can do about that.” He brushed his thumb against Tony’s cheek, wiping a little smudge of grease off his skin. “I do want to trust you. And I think I already apologized for involving JARVIS last time. I was… angry. And frustrated.”

Tony shrugged his shoulders a little, looking away. “Not like it hadn’t been justified.”

Steve stepped closer, putting a hand under Tony’s chin to pull his eyes back on him. “We’ve settled this, I’m not mad anymore, Tony.”

“Yeah, I know. Still…” The corners of his mouth quirked upwards a little. “JARVIS?”

“It’s a real pleasure to have you back, Captain,” JARVIS said in a pointedly exasperated voice. “I can personally attest that we are indeed currently working on Mark Thirty-One. Mark Twenty-Five and Mark Twenty-Six have, however, an identical structure and very similar programming due to their identical purpose as Heavy-construction units. They vary solely in four software programs, two internal weapons and in the paintjobs. A separate build was not needed in this case. Thus the calculations you have certainly made at this point are not correct. Mr. Stark has slept a non-average but uncritical amount of ninety-eight hours in the last twenty-three days.” A pause. When JARVIS continued, his voice sounded utterly embarrassed. “He also kindly asked me to tell you that he has eaten his green vegetables _like a good lil’ soldier_ while you were gone.”

Steve barked a laugh at that, pulling Tony flush against him. “I missed you so much.”

Next to them, the doors of the elevator opened with a low _Bing_.

“I hoped so,” Tony said with a little satisfied smile, letting himself be manhandled into the elevator.

Steve ignored the implication. With Tony, it was always better to show him how ridiculous his insecurities were instead of making it an endless discussion. “How were you sleeping?” Steve asked, hugging Tony and once more burying his nose in his neck.

“Better,” Tony answered instantly.

Steve sighed. “Tony…”

“It’s not a lie, Jesus!” Tony groaned, shuffling. “What do I need to do for you to stop second-guessing me all the time? Put a damn lie detector into my body? Hypnosis? Keep a dream diary? Emotion painting?” He tried and failed to pull out of Steve’s embrace. He kept struggling for a couple of seconds before going limp again. Sometimes Steve just loved being a super soldier. “Fine, _mother hen_ ,” Tony mumbled. “There were three attacks, and the one two days ago was particularly bad, but that _is_ better, Steve. Last time you were away I—”

“I know,” Steve breathed, leaning back to look Tony in the eye. “I hate leaving you alone for so long.”

Tony snorted. “You make me sound like a severe nursing case.”

Steve furrowed his brow, pretending to be in deep thought. “Well, it’s a struggle to feed you sometimes. I usually need more than one man’s strength to get you into bed and looking at you now, I figure it will take a _lot_ of time and dedication to fully clean you up.” He pointed at the black stains on Tony’s arms. “You’re a full-time job, really.”

Tony laughed out loud, once again tackling Steve and trying to wiggle out of his grip. It was a losing game and they both knew it. “You know what? There goes your shower blowjob, Captain Sassypants.”

Using all of his strength, Tony managed to turn around in-between Steve’s arms, pressing his back against Steve’s chest while simultaneously jamming his feet on the elevator wall. When he wasn’t able to push Steve backwards he—started to climb up on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing,” Steve laughed, doing his best not to dislocate Tony’s wrists while he did his little acrobatics.

“I’m fighting for justice, Steve, what does it look like I’m doing,” Tony huffed with a strained voice. His feet were now on the handrail, and his whole back pressed against Steve’s chest. He was trying to shove him back, but the position was obviously a dead-end. Tony snorted. “ _Someday_ … I’ll just accept how absurd it is to try and wrestle with you.”

Steve kissed his neck. “Probably for the best.”

Tony nodded, and Steve could pinpoint the exact moment, when all the fight—physically, and emotionally—left Tony’s body. He went completely pliant in his arms, his back slumping against Steve’s chest, while his ass remained pressed against his crotch. It didn’t look like he planned to come down from the handrail any time soon. When his face turned sideways, his eyes were glassy. “Hi,” he said with a soft voice.

Steve smiled, leaning in. “Hi.”

“Missed you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m stupid. Stupid, stupid, so stupid. I missed you. So much missing. The whole time.”

Steve offered him a half-grin, which probably couldn’t hide how hard his insides trembled at the admission. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear this. For a moment, they just looked at one another, before Tony slowly leaned in to press a slow, lazy kiss to Steve’s lips.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide with need. “Forget the blowjob. Can we please have shower sex before you coerce me to sleep? ‘Cause _this_ ,” he motioned towards his position, grinding his ass against Steve’s abdomen. “…is giving me an epic idea.”

Steve smiled, loosening his grip on Tony’s arms and pulling them around his waist again. “I think I could be persuaded.”

Normally, they’d spend a minute or two teasing each other, pretending they didn’t need it as much as the other, but honestly, after a month of not seeing each other, Steve was just… really getting a bit impatient. And if the way Tony was squirming in his arms was any indication, so was he. That was probably the only downside to being in a steady relationship. Once you were apart from each other, you realized pretty quickly how used you had become to having regular sex.

Teasing was clearly off the table. Quickly, Steve shoved a hand over Tony’s stomach before pressing down on his crotch, feeling the already half-hard member underneath.

“Well,” Tony breathed with a little hitch. He pushed his erection up against Steve’s touch, moving back and forth to create a little friction. “What are the odds? I was told I can be _very_ persuasive.”

Steve gasped, feeling his own arousal pike with unusual briskness and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing up hard against Tony’s ass. “What are the odds indeed…”

The elevator came to a stop, the doors opening to the penthouse floor. Steve was just about to rip off the button of Tony’s pants, when a very agitated Pepper stepped right in front of the entryway.

“I…” she began, taking both of them in. She blinked. A pause, and then, “Really?”

Tony—still mostly hanging in the air and still very much rutting against Steve’s palm—only shrugged matter-of-factly. “This is for justice, Pepper.”

Steve snapped his hand away, and slowly stepped backwards until Tony was standing upright again. “Hi,” he said, frowning when he took her in. Her eyes were wide—scared, imploring. She looked to be on the edge of collapse, and she was as white as a sheet. “You alright?”

Pepper shook her head, hands going to her temples to rub the skin there. “I really don’t want to bother you. I know you just came back from your mis—” She stopped and cleared her throat, and Steve rolled his eyes at Tony. So much for keeping a secret of national security. “I’m sure you had plans…”

Tony leaned into Steve, and pretended to whisper, “With plans she means kinky shower-wall sex.”

Steve rolled his eyes at him. “You’re never a bother, Pepper. What’s wrong?”

A soft, unreadable shadow fell across her face. Pepper sighed and slowly looked up at Tony. “It’s about Happy…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why was he even there?“ Tony asked with deep irritation in his voice. He had been pacing up and down the living room like a caged tiger for over half an hour now. It unnerved Steve to no end, but he knew Tony would never be able to sit still in a moment like this, so he let it pass for the moment.

“What the fuck was he doing at the goddamn _Chinese Theatre_ of all places?” he shouted, and his voice echoed a bit through the vast open space of the penthouse. They were alone, just the three of them. JARVIS had informed the others, though, and they would be joining them soon. Bruce had been over at DC for the week, helping SHIELD with some project in their medical facilities, but promised he’d be back as soon as possible.

Next to Steve, Pepper ruffled her bangs until a few strands were coming disheveled. With the little smudges around her eyes and the pale skin, it was probably the least put-together look Steve had ever seen on her. She sighed deeply, as she lifted her head. “You remember I made him Head of Security last month, right?”

Tony stood still for a second before he nodded and began pacing again. He would walk himself into a trench if he wasn’t careful.

Pepper bit her lip, and glanced towards the window front. “He… kind of overdid it. Not always, but, well, most of the time, honestly. He hassled the employees, made them wear these stupid _badges_. He forced visitors to fill out dozens of forms before they even set foot on SI ground. And yesterday, there was this guy I met a few years ago. He only wanted to present a project he’s working on, and Happy just… freaked out. Said Killian was acting suspiciously, said he didn’t trust him, and how he had _experience_ with ‘psychotic weirdos’ like him…”

Tony offered a biting chuckle. “Should I be offended?”

“Look, I—” Pepper started. “I don’t know if that’s what happened, but I think he might have even followed Killian’s car or something. I don’t really know…” She trailed off and looked at the ground.

Steve laid an arm around Pepper’s shoulder and pulled her in. It always surprised him how thin she actually was while simultaneously being one of the strongest people he knew. “And the doctors?” he asked.

Pepper shuddered against him. “They believe it’s better to keep him sedated right now. There seems to be some internal bleeding…”

Tony groaned, putting his face into both hands. He stood at the bar counter now, completely still for once, and Steve furrowed his brows as he saw him eyeing the various bottles of scotch on the glass shelves.

To be fair, they hadn’t exactly talked about it yet—had never even openly acknowledged it. Tony had never _stopped drinking_ officially or anything. He’d just, well, started to politely decline drinks a few months ago, and whenever they had to celebrate something, Steve now bought a bottle of sparkling cider beforehand, so Tony wouldn’t have to feel left out.

Steve had tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew Tony well enough by now, to know that he wouldn’t like to label himself and what he did. It was better to simply support him, and to let him know he approved without forcing him to explain his decision.

Now though, now Tony was eyeing the scotch. His fingers were tapping on the surface, like he always did when he mulled over the various options he had.

“Tony?” Steve called quietly. “Come on, sit with us.”

Tony turned around sharply, and blinked at him. Steve saw his cheeks flushing a little before he nodded and walked over. He didn’t spare the scotch another glance. When Tony flopped down on Steve’s side, he immediately grabbed for his hand. Steve squeezed it once in reassurance, before pulling it up and pressing a little kiss on its back.

Pepper snorted, eyeing them. “You guys are disturbingly cute, have I ever told you that?”

“You and all of the others,” Tony said with a little smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Multiple times and with varying degrees of annoyance. We’re the Stepford Wives, we got it.”

Pepper leaned into Steve more fully, so she could drop her right hand on Tony’s knee. “It’s a compliment, Tony.”

Tony sighed, and Steve felt him shake his head against his shoulder. The hand that wasn’t entwined with Steve’s found Pepper’s trembling fingers, and closed around them.

“He’ll make it,” Steve said to both of them and was answered with silence. There was a deep frustration flashing behind Tony’s brown eyes, and Steve knew: this wasn’t over by a long shot. There was a new burden starting to form, and it was obvious that Tony was somehow blaming himself for this. Even if he hadn’t been there, couldn’t possibly have seen this coming, he was still finding a way to make this his fault.

Steve also knew he couldn’t possibly convince him otherwise right now, because in this moment, Tony wasn’t rational at all—he was a prisoner of his own twisted logic, and all Steve could do was hope that he wouldn’t do something stupid.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_A true story about fortune cookies._

_They look Chinese. They sound—Chinese. But they're actually an American invention. Which is why they’re hollow, full of lies, and leave a bad taste in your mouth._

Of course, they had all known it had been a Mandarin attack, even before the flat-screen TV in the communal living room flashed a bright red. The whole deal had the Mandarin’s signature all over it. The TLC was a well-known Chinese venue, and with the latest bombings, there wasn’t much of a question on who was behind the attack. Steve had only waited for the confirmation in form of the obligatory televised speech, and when it came, he was already prepared for Tony’s fury.

He wasn’t pacing around anymore. Instead, Tony stood stock still in front of the television, staring the Mandarin straight in the eyes, like he wanted to simply shove through the screen and strangle the man with his bare hands.

_My disciples just destroyed another cheap American knockoff: the Chinese Theatre. Mr. President, I know this must be getting frustrating, but this season of terror is drawing to a close. And don’t worry. The ‘Big One’ is coming: your graduation._

Tony slapped his hand on the wall next to the television. He wasn’t angry—he was _furious_ , and most of all, he was overcome with guilt.

“Sit down, Stark,” Clint said calmly from his spot on the backrest of the couch.

“Fuck you, Barton,” Tony spat and whirled around while the picture on the television was now switching almost every other two second. It showed the Mandarin with a group of smiling children, showed him distributing various guns and automatics, and ultimately, it showed a clip of the Mandarin shooting at a picture of President Ellis.

“This is fucking it,” Tony snapped, a new flash of anger blazing in his eyes. His voice was clipped with barely repressed rage. “I’m going to find the bastard, and I will off him personally.”

A sigh tore through the air. “Tony,” Pepper said. “Calm down.”

Tony scowled at her but didn’t immediately reply. “No,” he declared after he gathered his thoughts, and both of his hands were now curled into fists. “We’ve been doing this for months now. Playing Hide and Seek with him, tracking him in the middle of nowhere, and where has that gotten us? I refuse to wait any longer. No secret spy missions, no stakeouts, no fucking reports. Fury’s had his chance to find him, and he _failed_. This is my business now, and I’m gonna tear him apart before he can even—”

“Stark,” Natasha said with a firm voice, and actually managed to shut Tony up for a moment. “This is not _your_ business. This is _Avengers_ business. And you don’t have to convince us. We’re a team. Whatever you have planned, we’re with you.”

A dry chuckle reverberated through Tony’s body, and it was somewhere between disbelieving and mocking. “You don’t even know Happy.”

Bruce sat next to the kitchen counter, a cup of steaming tea between his hands. He cleared his throat and slid his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “That’s not the point, Tony.”

Steve nodded. “Bruce is right. The point is that Happy is one of yours. And you are one of ours.”

Tony pursed his lips. He didn’t object, not outright, but it was obvious that he didn’t take their words seriously. Steve knew Tony remained adamant that he wasn’t a team player. That the others’ friendliness was only job-related at the root and, at most, based on respect. _Real friendship_ wasn’t something Tony understood easily. From experience, people only stayed with him as long as they needed something. Rhodey, Pepper and Happy were anomalies, and even though he had accepted Steve as another exception to the rule, Steve knew he was still having trouble trusting the others.

Tony sighed deeply and glanced away. Ultimately, his inner battle fell to a draw, like it always did.

Natasha pushed herself off the counter and turned to them, rotating two of her knives between her hands. “I’ll make it very simple for you, Tony. Tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”

Tony’s head flew up at that. “What?”

Clint exhaled deeply. “You heard her. The bastard hit you close to your home. Just tell us what you need, and then we find the guy and make him pay.”

Raw emotion stormed Tony’s eyes, and he tore his gaze away, focusing on the floor instead. Perhaps it was Natasha’s rare use of his first name, or Clint’s uninhibited use of absolutes—his firm confidence that the Mandarin would be found, no matter the cost. No matter where he’s hiding. No matter what distances they had to travel in order to bring him to justice.

Another sigh from Tony, this one of conviction. “Right,” he said, flexing his shoulders. “For now, I just need… time. I’ll let JARVIS reconstruct the crime scene at TLC. And I need you to keep an eye open at SHIELD. See if there are any new leads they aren’t telling us about. And,” Tony continued softly, his heavy eyes pointedly fixed on the floor. “I need to go to Malibu.”

A still beat settled over the room.

Steve knew that, obviously, Tony wanted to avenge Happy. And he wanted to make it happen, himself. It was understandable, on a certain level, but ultimately a waste of time. There were things larger than egos at play.

Steve looked up. “No you don’t,” he began gently. “We can’t leave New York right now. SHIELD relies on us to be here if he attacks the city. We need to—”

“I didn’t say anything about _we_.” There was a considerable pause before Tony turned back to meet Steve’s gaze, determination marking his face. “Sure, JARVIS might be able to draw enough information for a virtual reconstruction, but it’s possible that I need to check the area myself… to look for residues, check on the leads there…”

Steve sighed. Tony also needed to check on Happy, even if he didn’t say it directly.

Bruce looked up imploringly. “What if that’s exactly what the Mandarin wants. To split us. To lure one of us away.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “We were split. We _are_. All the time. Even you are on your own most days. Hell, _I_ was alone here for almost a _month_. And now it’s a problem? And besides, the guy never even addressed us directly. He hasn’t so much as _mentioned_ us. He has his own agenda and he clearly wants to avoid a direct confrontation. That’s why he’s hitting targets that are so far away from us.” He waved a hand. “I don’t think he gives a shit about us, one way or the other, he’s just playing his stupid ass game with the government. God knows what Ellis did to piss him off like that.”

Natasha’s eyes grew distant as she processed the new information. “Even if you’re right. He just attacked LA. He announced that the grand finale is coming. That changes things. What if we’re needed somewhere. What if he shows his real face while you’re gone?”

“With my new suit, I can be in New York in less than two hours.” The words were without any feeling. He said them only to appease the others.

Natasha shifted on her chair. “Maybe less than two hours isn’t enough.”

Steve sighed. “I’ll go with him.”

Clint eyed him warily. “And how exactly is that any better?”

Tony’s eyes remained steadfast on the ground. “I don’t need a bodyguard, Steve. I have Iron Man for that. And I took care of myself my whole life. I don’t need you to—”

“This isn’t about us,” Steve interjected swiftly. “If we split we split equally so we can take the first hit without being crushed on either side. It’s basic strategic knowledge.”

“It’s basic fucking bullshit,” Tony echoed with a harsh voice. “I can take this fucker solo every day of the week.”

Steve squared his shoulders. He tried to avoid using this card with Tony, but he wouldn’t budge on this, so much was clear. “As your leader, I tell you: You go with me or you don’t go at all. That’s my last word.”

Tony’s nostrils flared. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was probably too angry to even form words. He was also too upset and confused to see where the line ended, or where it had been crossed.

“Guys…” Pepper weakly held up a hand. Lately, she’d been present for some of their worst arguments and she was obviously as fed up with them as Steve was. “Can you please not do this now?”

“I’ll set SHIELD on alert,” Natasha offered. “Tell them we’ve split up. We’ll have Quinjets ready on either side. It’ll be okay.”

“Or it’ll be worse,” Clint said, sighing. “Whatever. I’m game.”

A long sigh rolled off Tony’s shoulders. “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Bruce stood up and shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s the thing with being in a team, Tony.” He grinned at him mischievously. “We will anyway.”

A wan smile stretched over Tony’s lips. He glanced down, and the tension leaving his body was almost palpable.

Clint only shrugged, pointedly indifferent, before he stood up, too. “You let us live here, you feed us, and you pay for our health insurances. Now don’t be a crybaby and make use of us.”

Tony grinned tightly to himself and glanced up. He nodded numbly, and his eyes followed Pepper, as she slowly made her way towards the elevators. “My suit will be finished in an hour. We can leave right after your meeting.”

Pepper stopped, and nodded. She threw Tony a tired little smile, before she pressed the button in front of her.

When the others had left, too, Tony cleared his throat, not making any attempt to move from where he still stood next to the couch. “Sorry,” he said after a moment, regarding Steve with unease. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, before he made his way over to him. “That was uncalled for.”

Steve couldn’t help the slightly sardonic smile that tugged at his lips, as he quickly reached for Tony and pulled him straight down on his lap. “We’ll find him,” he promised, before he leaned in and pressed an unhurried kiss to Tony’s mouth.

Tony nodded and slumped against him. They kissed for a few seconds, before Tony pulled back and his forehead found purchase against Steve’s neck.

“I’m a mess,” he murmured, blinking against Steve’s skin. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m a complete piping hot mess.”

Steve shook his head indiscernibly. “With everything you’ve been through lately, I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

Tony’s pulled his arms around him, hugging Steve to him with unusual intensity. Apart from their lovemaking, Tony didn’t often cling to him like that. It was a bit unexpected, and Steve didn’t really know what to do with it, other than to hold him even tighter.

A long pause. “That can only be an excuse for so long,” Tony murmured.

“It hasn’t been all that long,” Steve replied softly and leaned back to look Tony in the eyes. Tony used the opportunity to kiss his temple as his fingers played with the wisps of hair at the base of Steve’s neck. Steve shrugged with a little grin. “You still got a few passes, as far as I’m concerned.”

Tony snorted, but then cast him a grateful smile. “I don’t want to mess this up. We’ve been fighting so often lately…”

Steve sighed. “We fight, we make up. It’s what we do. You’re not messing anything up.”

Tony blinked in surprise, astonishment leaking into his eyes. “But the suits…”

“It’s not the suits that make me angry, Tony, I told you that,” Steve replied, sighing heavily. How often did he need to say that before it registered in Tony’s giant brain? “You’re not dealing with your PTSD, you won’t even _talk_ about medication, and you’re only building the suits because you need the distraction. It’s not about the suits, the suits are amazing.”

Tony only stared at him blankly. His arms tightened further around Steve, though, as expected, he said nothing.

A long, resigned sigh rolled off Steve’s shoulders. He leaned forward again and brushed a kiss across Tony’s brow. “I just want you to feel better. I… worry. It’s part of the relationship deal.”

Tony smiled softly, and reached for his face, his callused fingers dancing across Steve’s cheek. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

Steve dropped his head, so he could coax Tony’s mouth into another kiss. “So are you,” he breathed against his lips, and prevented Tony from denying it by slowly edging his tongue between his lips.

What simple words couldn’t give Tony, he hoped he could convey with his lips.


	2. Stormy Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of your comments and kudos! It means the world to me :)

**Tony**

 

Tony had always hated hospitals. Their whitewashed, shiny walls did nothing to soothe him, and only made him feel uncomfortable to an almost claustrophobic degree. Ever since he was a child, he had associated hospitals with loss—and with fear and guilt. He remembered how Edwin Jarvis used to bribe him with donuts every time he wanted him to go to one without putting up a fight. Of course, Tony would still cling pathetically to the butler’s legs so the doctors wouldn’t take him into one of their creepy little examination rooms.

Part of his hatred was based on the smell. All hospitals smelled alike: a biting tang of antiseptic—like disinfectant and fear with lingering traces of diseases and death underlying everything, that even sterile pads and gauze couldn’t keep away.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he had voluntarily set foot into a hospital. Even when his parents had died, he had refused to go. After all, they had already been dead when he’d gotten the information about the car crash, and after some debate, it had been Obadiah who had confirmed their identity. By the time the bodies were cleaned, dressed and cossetted, Tony had been too stoned to even remember his way into the morgue.

He hadn’t gone to a hospital after Afghanistan either, much to Pepper’s and Rhodey’s dismay. Instead, he’d called one of his private doctors and got a check-up at home, and that had been enough.

Admittedly, it was a bit ironic, considering all the times he’d been injured and had probably needed medical attention in the last couple of years that he’d managed not to go to a real hospital. As an Avenger, however, they had the best medical treatment at SHIELD, so there was no need to go to public hospitals any longer, and he was immensely grateful for that.

So, all in all, Tony tended to avoid hospitals and clinics like the plague.

But today was different.

Because this time… this time, it was Happy. Happy, who had been his friend for longer than he could even remember. Happy, who would’ve died for him without so much as a blink of an eye. And where had that gotten him? He was lying in a dimly lit room, a little TV above his head playing _Downton Abbey_ of all things. Well, then again, Happy would’ve loved that, he loved that damned show, if he’d actually been aware enough to enjoy it.

From the doorway, the nurse said something about visiting hours. Tony tried to ignore her, but it was difficult with the damn wall clock ticking away right above his head. In a way, time was a funny thing. He could easily deal with it when it was running out on him on the battlefield, when he had a world to save. Time was his enemy then, something he could beat, if not physically, then by doing something physical. It gave him a reason to push himself to new limits. It was something he could bend to his will. This however—these pieces of existence that were left behind with the bare motion of a breathing mask—this was something Tony didn’t know how to deal with.

Most of his life, he had spent fleeing from the truth of his shortcomings. Be it his failure to gain his father’s approval, or his inability to recognize when he’d pushed the people around him too far. Only for a little while, Tony had taken the turn down the path which would force him to face the error of his ways. Which would make him admit his inadequacies and attempt to become a better man. He knew there weren’t many people in the world brave enough to ask the simple questions _Where did I go wrong? How did I mess this up?_ and genuinely wish for an answer. It had taken Tony a long time to get there, too. Mostly, he hadn’t wanted to see what had remained of him after years of vanity, ignorance and self-destruction. He hadn’t wanted an answer on how far he still had to go until he could redeem himself. He had been content to take baby steps and simply wait to arrive at the inevitable destination.

Steve had changed that. Steve had encouraged him to face his past and to turn it into something new. Something good.

However, it was difficult to remain optimistic when the embodiment of one’s greatest failure was lying only feet away. More so when said embodiment had dedicated his whole life to keep Tony safe.

Happy was laid out in this… ridiculously tiny bed like a dead man, a tube stuffed in his throat and his hands unmoving next to his body, and Tony’s own words rang back at him with mocking irony he couldn’t ignore: _Make him Head of Security. Gives the old man something to do with his life._ Tony looked down at Happy, and he had never felt more lost. Or more guilty.

“Mr. Stark?” the nurse called again, clearing her throat. She wore an unreadable expression as she stepped fully into the room. “I am really sorry, sir, but visiting hours were over two hours ago,” she said, looking up at the wall next to the television.

Tony craned his neck to follow the nurse’s gaze, eyes settling on the clock that told him it was already past eight. Shit. He’d promised Steve and Pepper to be back for dinner.

“Mr. Hogan needs his rest, and I’d say he’s not the only one.”

Tony had a reply for that on the tip of his tongue, but eventually decided against snapping at a woman who only had Happy’s best interest in mind. The spark of annoyance fizzled out faster than it came, and, yeah, the nurse was right. Her smile was genuine, and even a bit concerned, and… it was no use to be here. As it was, Happy wouldn’t wake up any time soon and he still had a job to do.

Every part of him wanted to go and fight. He wanted to _destroy_ the Mandarin and everyone who had dared to hurt Happy. Since he became Iron Man, he had a responsibility for those around him and he wasn’t simply Happy’s boss any more, but his protector, too—except this thing wasn’t something he could fight. Not yet, at least. The Mandarin was nothing more than a shadow, always gone before the Avengers so much as stepped into their uniforms. And it made Tony feel utterly helpless, knowing he could do nothing more than stay calm and wait for SHIELD to come back with answers.

“Come on,” the nurse said with a kind voice, holding the door open. “You can come back tomorrow.”

He sighed and looked up. “I won’t have time for that,” he told her. His bones protested the motion of standing, partly because of the uncomfortable chair, but mostly because he was really getting old. He already was, it seemed, what with not even being able to protect the ones closest to him. “You take good care of him, yeah?”

The nurse smiled. “Of course, Mr. Stark. Between me and the five security guards you’ve positioned in the hallway, I’m sure he is in good hands.”

He nodded his thanks, giving the motionless figure on the bed one last look. Then he shoved his sun glasses on his nose and left the room, and then the hospital.

He was used to flashlights, and the usual press barrage wouldn’t have bothered him much under normal circumstances, but now—now he just wasn’t in the damn mood for this. He tried to calmly make his way through the lines of reporters, one step after another. He even tried not to push the pestering camera men too hard, or outright snap at the few people who were still asking these dumbass questions about his relationship with Steve.

He’d almost made it, had almost reached his car, when— “Hey Mr. Stark! When is someone going to kill this guy?” a male voice asked behind him.

Tony made the mistake to stop at that, only for a second, but suddenly all the reports were rounding up on him, leaning over his car and shoving their microphones right under his nose. They all looked at him expectantly, like they were somehow personally accusing him of not preventing the attacks in the first place.

Anger and frustration rushed through his veins with little hesitation. He knew, they were just unknowingly rubbing salt into an already gaping wound, and he also knew he was probably overreacting a bit. Not that Steve would deem that a good enough explanation for what happened next.

He slowly turned around, and the guy who had asked the question was now holding up his smartphone right in front of Tony’s face. “Just sayin’,” the man said with a pointedly casual smile.

“Is that what you want?” Tony snapped at the guy, irritated with himself, even as he spoke. “Alright,” he conceded, raising his voice and looking around him. “Here’s a little Holiday greeting I’ve been wanting to send to the Mandarin.” He breathed in deep. “I just didn’t know how to phrase it until now…”

With a quick movement, he took off his sunglasses. “If you think for so much as a moment that you can control this world, you’re wrong. You’re a coward, and we’re onto you now, pal. The Avengers will destroy you before you can so much as lift another finger.” The words that escaped his lips were not nearly as harsh as they could have been. He hoped his anger poured through his eyes, though. It needed to. If he’d suffer through another sexless night—because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get any after Steve found out about this—he had to at least make the Mandarin realize he was done talking, and he wasn’t afraid to meet him out in the open.

“There’s no politics, no Pentagon, it’s just you against us now.” There was a long beat of silence as the reporters stared at him with undivided attention. Good. His words were hitting home, then. “On the off-chance you’re a man, you know where to find me. I’ll even leave the door unlocked.”

There was nothing for a long beat. The words had been out of his mouth before he could think them through. He knew this was bad, this was _so_ bad, and tried to mask his stupidity with cold indifference. Tony knew that lives could be destroyed with a few mindless words. And he felt it. Right now. Felt the edge of the sword come back to stab him. It was too late though, too late to take it back now.

And Steve? Steve would tear him a new one for this.

He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d decided to grab for the smartphone in front of him; he wasn’t fully aware he had moved at all until he was throwing the device against the wall behind him, and watched it shatter.

“Bill me,” he ground out, entered his car and drove away with screeching tires.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he came home, he immediately ordered JARVIS to initiate total security lockdown. Then, he very carefully dodged the hallway leading to Pepper’s guestroom, and made a direct beeline for the gym instead.

He knew what he was planning to do was a dick move on his part—Jesus, this was _such_ a dick move, and not just in the literal sense. It was also immature, and a thousand other things a reasonable adult would _not_ do, and he was _aware_ of that, thank you very much, but he also knew Steve would definitely flip when he found out and… God, he hadn’t touched the guy in so long. He needed the closeness now, craved it, really, and it was selfish and ruthless… and he decided to feel guilty about it afterwards.

He hadn’t seen Steve naked in almost a month, and probably wouldn’t for another, after the stunt he’d just pulled, and he had to make do with whatever was available. Also, a post-orgasm Steve tended to be considerably kinder towards Tony’s fuck-ups. Well. Sometimes, at least.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he arrived at the gym, but the sight that greeted him made him stop short in the doorway. He didn’t often have the time to spar with Steve, and certainly no time at all to simply appreciate the World Wonder that was Steve’s body while he did his training session, but _damn_ —he should definitely make the time more often.

Steve was panting hard, which meant he was nearing the end of his after-dinner workout. It also meant he’d been going at it for an hour or two, punching his way through a couple of bags, probably, and had likely not paid attention to any form of media at that point.

That was good. That was great.

On the other hand, Fury had left Tony five _very_ inspiring messages on his answering machine. Not that he would answer those. Ever. So there was a minimal chance that this wasn’t Steve doing his usual workout, but Steve trying to dish out most of his anger before Tony got home.

Well. Only one way to find out.

Steve’s punches were becoming more forceful, the small grunts that escaped his lips more emphatic, and Tony couldn’t hold back a little whimper as he leaned his head against the doorway.

Steve frowned and took a step backwards, his chest heaving. His muscular body was a little flushed with exertion and glimmering with a light sheen of sweat. That wasn’t something Tony had ever thought to find appealing on a person, and yet, the image of Steve after a hefty workout made his cock harden in a matter of seconds.

“Tony,” Steve called, surprised, and reached for the towel he’d left draped over the pommel horse in the middle of the room. “What—”, he started, frowning even more as Tony approached him with a purposeful stride. He was still dabbing the cloth across his brows, as Tony came to stop in front of him and undid the ribbon of Steve’s sweatpants without so much as a warning.

“I’m gonna blow you,” Tony purred against his neck before he unceremoniously dropped to his knees, pulling the waistband of Steve’s sweats down with him.

“Tony, what…” Steve trailed off with a surprised moan, as Tony first palmed him through the fabric of his boxers, before he shoved those down as well. Steve leaned his back against the pommel horse, and tried to grab for Tony’s shoulder to pull him upwards again. “What—” he started again. “No, wait. I need to talk to you about, aahh, about…”

Tony shook his head and groaned as Steve’s beautiful half-hard cock bobbed eagerly out in front of him.

So Steve already knew. Well, shit.

“After,” he said, breathing in deep, pumping him slowly with his hand. “I need this now.” He wrapped his fingers around the base of Steve’s thick shaft, and smiled as the man above him immediately hissed and slammed his open palm against the leather. God, he was always so wonderfully responsive.

Tony slowly stroked him from base to tip and Steve gasped his name like a prayer. When Tony swirled his thumb through the drop of pre-come glistening at the head and brought his hand back down again, Steve finally lost his reservation and wantonly bucked his hips forward.

Pleased at his reaction, Tony pressed his lips to the smooth head, loving the way Steve’s whole body vibrated beneath his touch. He snuck his tongue past his lips and licked him from base to tip, feeling a jolt of arousal surge through him at the way his name sounded when Steve begged him to give him more.

Tony glanced up at him as he circled the sensitive tip with his tongue. He caught Steve’s eyes, a dark blue, as he watched him. The intense desire and love and a million other things he couldn’t name. Tony knew the power he held over him at this point. Steve was so beautiful when he finally lost control for a moment and Tony loved nothing more than to make his insides quiver until Steve saw nothing else but him.

The instant his eyes closed, Tony took him fully into his mouth. He sucked him in as far as he could, his left hand squeezing what he couldn’t take as his throat muscles contracted around the shaft. Steve’s fingers curled into Tony’s hair, giving him an almost demanding tug, before his hand finally settled, open-palmed, at the crown of his head.

As Tony withdrew, lightly scraping his teeth along the smooth skin, uncontrolled sounds started to tumble from Steve’s lips. He had never gotten vulgar so far—aside a few _fucks_ and _damn-it-Tonys_ —and it was Tony’s personal goal in life to change that very soon. Steve’s cock slipped effortlessly in and out of his mouth, guided but not forced by Steve’s hand as he bobbed Tony’s head while he thrust with his hips.

“I’m close…” Steve gasped, pumping a bit harder now. “God, the way you look right now.”

Tony nodded and squeezed Steve’s balls in what he hoped Steve would take as a go-ahead. Then he let his hand inch upwards to gently rub his stomach. He made his mouth relax around Steve as the thrusts started to lose their steady rhythm. He trapped Steve’s cock, sucking him hard and holding him at the back of his throat. Then he swallowed, and watched Steve’s beautiful face dissolve from one extreme to the next.

It only took a couple of sloppy thrusts before he finally felt Steve explode. Before he felt the salty strands of his release spill down his throat as the body above him broke in trembles. Steve gripped a handle of the pommel horse with white knuckles and shoved forward. A loud moan of Tony’s name split the air, and Tony pumped him with a hand, planting reassuring kisses along his length. Then he leaned down to tap Steve’s sac with his tongue. “I love the way you shake apart around me,” he murmured, and before he could so much as lick his lips, Steve jerked him to his feet and stared him down with that adoring gaze of his.

“Thank you,” he whispered while he leaned down to nuzzle Tony’s chin. He probably licked a few droplets of come away and the thought alone was enough to make Tony groan.

“I swear, you thanking me after sex will never get old,” Tony said with an amused snort. His voice was a bit raspy, and he cleared his throat a couple of times to lessen the strain.

Steve smiled with a blissed-out look and pulled him against his chest. “It’s only polite.” He kissed his neck. “That was really great.”

Tony nodded, leaning against him. “I’m glad.”

There was a moment of silence, before Steve bent down to pull his sweatpants back up. Then he drew Tony in another hug. “We’ll get back at them, Tony. I promise.”

“I know,” he whispered, and decided now was probably a good time as any to carefully test the waters. “I’m just… really not good at waiting.”

“Oh?” Steve laughed good-naturally, and it didn’t _sound_ like he was going to scream at him any second. So maybe Fury hadn’t told him after all. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

They stayed like that for a moment. “You want to move this to the bedroom?” Steve asked then, glancing down to Tony’s crotch, where his cock was still straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Tony cleared his throat. “I’d love to, but… I was about to go in the shop, you know, to take a better look at the explosions. It’s kind of time sensitive.” _Because I’ve invited a terrorist to our home_ , he thought, and guiltily glanced down with a sigh.

Steve furrowed his brows. “Do we need to talk about this?”

“Steve, I love you,” Tony said with conviction. “I’m pissed about what happened to Happy, but that has got nothing to do with you. I’d love nothing more than to get fucked silly right now, but I need to analyze this. If there’s any kind of lead on the Mandarin, I’ll find it. And way faster than SHIELD. I just need a few hours.”

Steve listened quietly and nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I do. But you didn’t have a good night’s sleep in so long… And no, I haven’t asked JARVIS, but you were awake on the flight, and you were awake before I came back from Kuwait, so if I needed to guess, I’d say you’ve passed the fifty hour mark, and we had an understanding about the fifty hour mark, Tony.”

Tony quirked a smile. Steve was way too damn observant. “I’ll take a nap while JARVIS renders the premises of the TLC,” he offered.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nice try. I know that only takes him about a minute.”

“You know,” Tony said with an exasperated huff. “I think I liked you better when you were all starry-eyed about my tech.” He sighed. “Fine, Sherlock. At least, give me three hours, okay? If I haven’t found anything then, I’ll sleep. Full cycle, I’ll even let you supervise.”

Steve regarded him for a sharp moment, like he was trying to figure out if he could trust Tony with his promise, which—yeah, he probably deserved that, seeing as how often he’d misused the _Only one more hour_ phrase lately.

“Scout’s honor,” he offered with a little grin, and lifted two fingers straight in the air.

Steve was still for a beat, then he laughed and pressed a little kiss against Tony’s palm. “You know that’s not how it’s done, right?”

Tony smirked, and shrugged. “It always worked with whiskey.”

“I’m sure,” Steve said with a snort and leaned up against him for a moment, before he slowly made his way to the door. “Alright. Do your thing. I’ll heat up the leftovers for you.”

Tony winced, and followed Steve into the hallway. “Right. Sorry about that.”

But Steve, bless him, only waved him off with a smile. “We didn’t really expect you to be back in time. How was Happy?”

“Not much of a talker,” Tony answered.

Steve rolled his eyes at him and linked their hands together.

“The doctors are ‘carefully optimistic’,” Tony quoted with distaste.

“He’ll make it. Happy’s a fighter,” Steve assured him, his voice firm with so much conviction, that it was impossible to doubt him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t get three hours—not that he had expected that.

To be exact, he didn’t even get half an hour, but he’d figured Steve would find out sooner rather than later. If Steve didn’t get the information from the television, there was always Fury who would gladly tattle on him. Or Natasha. Or any other of the Avengers, for that matter.

JARVIS managed to fully reconstruct the crime scene at the TLC, and Tony had just found some dog tags Happy had pointed at in his last moment of consciousness, when Steve stormed down the stairs, jackhammering his code into the console of the workshop door.

Just thinking about the long argument ahead of him let a wave of exhaustion sweep over his body. Tony sighed from his seat on top of the large storage shelves. God, he was just so wretchedly tired. For once, it would’ve been great to have DUM-E around, what with his weird extra caffeinated smoothies and all.

“Any military victims?” Tony asked into open space, as the virtual image of the dog tags rotated in the middle of the room.

“Not according to public records, sir,” JARVIS answered.

Tony nodded slowly, looking down on the hologram. He was missing something. The hints were there—he just didn’t see the big picture yet. “Calculate the thermogenic signatures again, factor in three thousand degrees.”

“Very well, sir.”

Eventually, the door opened. Steve was dressed in a new pair of jeans when he appeared in the doorway. His hair was a little damp from showering, though he obviously hadn’t had the time to shave properly. There was a light and unexpectedly attractive thatch of stubble on his cheeks, and his eyes were blazing. Upon walking into the room, he stood very still for a few seconds. His arms shook with anger, though, and he obviously didn’t know where to even start. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he regarded the huge projection of the crime scene in front of him. At this point, it took up most of the workshop floor.

“Look, Steve…” Tony started, and that was obviously the push Steve had needed, because a second later, his voice echoed loudly through the shop.

“Is that how it’s going to be now?” he yelled, and his eyes flared dangerously. “You’re going to blow me every time you mess up? Is that the kind of relationship you want to have with me?” There was genuine hurt in his voice, too, and yeah, Tony had expected as much. He wasn’t stupid, and he _knew_ he’d taken it too far this time.

Still worth it, if you asked him.

Steve was now stalking toward him, his eyes raging. He didn’t even tiptoe around the holograms like he used to. He just stormed right through them. “When did you plan to tell me?” he demanded to know, slamming an angry fist on one of the workshop desks as he walked by. “Before or after the Mandarin arrived here?”

Tony felt himself sagging a little, as he watched Steve approach. He was vibrating with anger that seemed just a little bit out of place. It wasn’t like anything had actually happened yet. “The house is on lockdown,” he assured him hurriedly, waving a hand into the room in general. “JARVIS will warn us when someone gets so much as near the house, right buddy?”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said, but he clearly sounded disapproving. The traitor liked Steve far too much. Then again, Tony couldn’t really hold that against him.

There was a long beat when he thought he might have pushed Steve over the edge. His muscles shook with repressed tension, and the fury in his gaze made Tony shrivel up uncomfortably.

Then, Steve took a long deep breath, held it, and exhaled it again very slowly. “Did it… _maybe_ … go into your thick skull that sometimes it’s better not to pull too much attention? That _sometimes_ it’s an advantage to simply stay under the radar?” He forced his voice to be quiet now, and it was obviously a struggle, seeing as how he had to make a little pause after every second word. He came to a stop in front of the shelves then, and looked up at Tony. One of his hands landed on the edge beside Tony’s knee, the other was curled to a fist at his side.

“We’re fine, alright?” Tony started carefully and pointed at the silver suitcase over at the couch. “I have my new suit, you have your shield—we’re good. There’s no need to overreact.”

It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Steve only stared at him disbelievingly for endless seconds before small, bitter chuckles commanded his body. “Oh, now I’m _overreacting_ …”

“The oracle cloud has completed analysis, sir,” JARVIS chimed in with a gentle tone, and the hologram of the crime scene vanished in favor of a map of the US. “Accessing satellites and plotting the last twelve months of thermogenic occurrence now.”

“Tony…” Steve started without looking down and his free hand grabbed for one of Tony’s ankles to get his attention.

Tony sighed, feeling the beginning of a headache stirring. “Can you _please_ stop second-guessing me? I know exactly what I’m doing, and I’m not a five-year old.”

“Then stop acting like one!” Steve shouted, not breaking their gaze. He looked exhausted. Exhausted from the emotional turmoil Tony put him through every day. Exhausted from the new revelations, exhausted from Tony, exhausted from everything.

“I was _trying_ to get him out in the open,” Tony said quietly, running a nervous hand through his hair. “We can’t go on like this. We’ve tried, for months, and it didn’t get us _anywhere_. If he has the balls to actually show up here, then all the fucking better.”

Steve shook his head, and he threw up a hand in frustration. “He won’t show up here, Tony.”

Tony felt his frustration mounting, tagged with a hint of anxiety. “What are you saying?”

Another agonizing pause. Steve huffed angrily. “What I’m _saying_ is that he won’t show up _here_ , because he already did in New York. There was an attack two hours ago. It’s all over the news, right next to your little statement this afternoon.”

Tony nearly fell off the shelves. No. _No_. This was not happening. “I… What?” he gasped hotly. “Where? Is everyone alright? Did they—”

Steve sighed, the anger somewhat draining from his face. “Yeah—yeah, there… it was a… detonation in Red Hook. Blew up some vacant factory complex, I don’t know. No victims we know of, it was… we don’t know what it was, but no one got hurt.”

Tony found himself dissolving in relief. He had no damn idea what he would have done if one of the others got hurt because of his carelessness. He swallowed hard, not quite meeting Steve’s gaze. “Why would he attack some Brooklyn factory? It’s not Chinese, it’s not… anything, really. It’s not like New York doesn’t have plenty of landmarks he could choose from.”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “SHIELD’s still analyzing the area. Bruce said it was some kind of… laboratory, but as usual, they didn’t find any traces of the explosion on the premises. No powder, no nothing, it’s like—”

“It’s a bomb, but it’s not a bomb.” Tony nodded. “JARVIS. Take away everywhere that there’s been a Mandarin attack.” He pointed down at the map of America beneath his feet. Steve took a few steps back to have a better look at the markers. Above him, there were new projections popping up. “As far as we know, the detonations are like… an extreme heat blast,” Tony explained in Steve’s direction, and dismissed one schematic after the other with a flick of his fingers. “The strange thing is, there never seem to be explosives.” He stilled at the third pop up. The heat signature was listed as over 3000 degrees Celsius. “You’re sure that’s not a Mandarin attack, J.?” he asked.

“It predates any known Mandarin attack,” the AI answered with a pensive voice. “The incident was the use of a bomb to assist a suicide.”

“Huh,” Tony said, and glanced down at Steve. “Remember the suicide bomber in Rose Hills Tennessee?”

Steve blinked up at him. “What? Chad Davis?”

Tony hummed slightly, and nodded.

“Yeah, but…” Steve frowned. “That wasn’t the Mandarin. That was way before his time.”

“True,” Tony conceded with a frown. “But the heat signature is almost identical. It’s also the second military guy who is involved in this shit.”

Steve only looked at him blankly.

Tony snapped a finger in the air. “JARVIS, show him.”

The previous image of the dog tags popped open in front of Steve, zooming in on the name. Steve frowned irritably. “So what? You think the suicide of an individual is somehow related to a series of nation-wide terrorist attacks?”

Tony shrugged. “I have no idea. All I know is that the data is too similar to be a coincidence. We haven’t found anything useful on the other locations. Maybe we can ask around a bit. Who knows… maybe someone remembers anything.” He cleared his throat. “JARVIS, ever been to Tennessee?”

“Creating a flight plan for Tennessee,” the AI said, and Tony made a huge gesture with both hands to close all of the holograms at once.

When he looked back down, Steve was staring at him numbly. “You want to go to Tennessee,” he said slowly. “Now.”

“Uh… yeah?”

“You threatened a terrorist, you told him you’d leave the door open for him, and now you want to fly to Tennessee.” It wasn’t a question.

Tony sighed heavily, opened his mouth, and then grew annoyed with himself for the lack of words that rose to his tongue. “Steve…”

“Would you have…” Steve trailed off, and a pained look flashed across his eyes. “Would you have even told me? Or Pepper? Or were you just gonna take a suit and fly away…”

Tony shook his head, hard, and started to climb down the shelves. “Of course I wouldn’t have just left… I would never just _leave_ you—or Pepper, for that matter. How could you even think that?”

Steve’s eyes softened a bit and he took a step in Tony’s direction. “How could I be sure these days, Tony?” He almost looked pained as the words left his mouth, but he smiled through the ache. He rounded around the last nook and finally came to a halt in front of Tony. “I… I want to trust you. I really do. But you need to stop trying to deceive me,” he said, and he didn’t even sound angry anymore. Just sad.“I’ll stay up and wait for news from SHIELD,” Steve told him. Then he pulled Tony to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “And you go to bed. We can talk about Tennessee when you’ve slept.”

Tony frowned and shook his head against him. “I can’t wait for this… I need to see this through. I’m so close, I _know_ there’s something there.”

Steve pulled back, his eyebrow raised up in that way that always made him look annoyed with a hint of protective. “Bed,” he said shortly, stepping back and nodding in the general direction of their room.

Tony tried to compose his features into something unyielding, but Steve’s very expectant eyebrows refused to budge. The throbbing behind Tony’s eyes intensified, heated by a wave of new annoyance sweeping through him. “This isn’t your call,” he grit out, stepping out from Steve’s embrace. Of course, Steve immediately gripped his shoulder and pulled him back around.

“Seriously, Steve. Back off for once, would you? I know my limits. I’ve known them for years. I know exactly what I can take.”

“You need to stop doing this to yourself,” Steve pleaded. “You may have gotten used to this, but… whatever you might believe, you’re not invincible. We depend on you and if you keep this up, your body will refuse to keep going at some point.” His eyes were flaring with some internal fire that only fuelled Tony’s growing irritation. “Please, Tony. Give yourself a break and let me take care of this.”

“It’s not your family they took a shot at!” Tony yelled, suddenly fed up with being told what to do, and shook off Steve’s grip. The words echoed between them for a second and the implied meaning slowly etched its way into Tony’s brain. Damn it. “Sorry,” he breathed immediately. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. He turned very quiet and stared past Tony for seconds, before he looked back at him. He opened his mouth to say something, when, suddenly, JARVIS’ voice echoed through the workshop.

“Sir, Miss Potts asked me to inform you of the arrival of a woman called Maya Hansen. She wishes to talk to you in person.”


	3. The Longest Fall

**Tony**

 

“Sir, Miss Potts asked me to inform you of the arrival of a woman called Maya Hansen. She wishes to talk to you in person.”

Tony blinked dumbly at the ceiling. “What? We’re on lockdown. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Miss Potts welcomed Miss Hansen outside of the premises, sir. She assured me she’d take care of the matter.”

Tony sighed heavily. “What does she want?”

“Miss Hansen insists that it is a conversation better held eye to eye. Miss Potts also wishes to discuss recent developments with you.”

Tony shifted uncomfortably and peeked at Steve, who only shrugged at him. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “You brought that all on yourself.”

A sound that might have been a laugh on a different occasion ruptured through Tony’s throat. “Great,” he huffed. “It was so much easier when I could just order her to leave me alone.”

Steve glanced up at him with a hint of a grin. “Like she ever followed any kind of _order_ from you.”

Tony rolled his eyes at him. “Point. I have a bad habit of hiring only the most pigheaded people as my PAs.”

“And the most patient,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “Alright. Now, who is Maya Hansen?”

“Uh…” Tony scrunched up his face, and ran a hand through his hair. “A fellow scientist… brilliant, mostly into genetics. We met a few times in the 90s and… well, there was this one night in Switzerland.”

Steve gave him an exasperated look. “Of course there was.” He looked up at the ceiling. Steve still thought it was polite behavior to actually look at the cameras when he was talking to JARVIS, and couldn’t be persuaded otherwise. Frankly, it was adorable. “JARVIS?” he asked. “Can you please tell them we’re coming upstairs?”

“My pleasure, Captain.”

Steve looked back down at Tony, and his eyes became serious again. “Afterwards, you’re going straight to bed,” he decided on, his voice hard, edgy, and, yeah, still angry. “We’re partners, Tony,” he said in that same hard tone, his free hand gesturing back and forth between them. “I know it’s not always easy, and sometimes it feels too big and too messy, but it’s ours, and if it takes days or months or, God help me, years before it goes into your thick, stubborn skull that you don’t have to do these things alone, I don’t care. You let me take care of this, you will trust me to wake you in time, or—”

Tony inhaled sharply, as Steve’s palm flattened over the arc reactor. There it was. The big _or_.

Steve leaned in until all Tony could see were the blue flames of his eyes, and Tony felt all remaining strength pour out of him. “Or I’ll get one of Bruce’s tranquilizers, and so God help me, I’ll stick it in your butt, if I have to,” Steve finished with the hint of a smirk. Awareness trickled through Tony’s consciousness like a waterfall, smoothing out the rough edges of beliefs he once held so closely to his heart. Steve would never leave him. Steve loved him, and yeah, they were in this together.

Steve glanced sideways. “Sometimes I think… that maybe you still somehow don’t trust me.”

Tony swallowed hard, and shook his head firmly. He _did_. He had forgiven Steve for his deceit for a long time now. “Steve, no…”

Steve smiled, but it seemed hollow. “Most of the time you’re so close to me, and I feel like you let me see right into your heart. And then, sometimes, you’re pulling up that wall between us. And I get that I messed up when it comes to trust. And I understand if you still feel the need to—”

Tony grabbed for Steve’s hands, wringing them tight. “I forgave you. Completely. I trust you. We talked about this so much, and _I love you_ … You’re the one thing I can’t live without, and I don’t hold grudges, you gotta believe me. This has nothing to do with you, I’m just… not so good with waiting for others to agree with me before I do what I think needs to be done.”

Steve held his gaze for a minute longer, then smiled a little and nodded. “This is my family, too, you know,” he whispered, voice softer now, soothing. “Please don’t shut me out of your life.”

Tony felt himself nod slowly, and then, because the world was somehow still spinning, and because he couldn’t understand how a single person could feel so much and love so deeply, Tony leaned forward, cradling Steve’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together.

Steve sighed against his lips, and it took him a moment before he slowly, hesitantly began to kiss back. A relieved whimper tumbled off Tony’s lips. “Okay,” he breathed into Steve’s mouth, as if that one, meaningless word could somehow make up for the billions he couldn’t find.

“Okay,” Steve nodded and pulled back to smile at him, like he’d understood anyway.

They entwined their hands as they walked to the stairs leading up in the main hall of the mansion. “So,” Tony started, and cleared his throat. “And I’m talking hypothetical here: Let’s say there’s a kid upstairs…”

Steve rolled his eyes at him. “If there’s a kid upstairs, we’ll talk about it, and we’ll get through that, too.”

Tony sighed, giving the workshop one last look over. “I don’t deserve you.”

Steve snorted. “You know what. Today, you really don’t.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The good news was: there was no kid in the main hall. For once, Tony’s actions didn’t come back to bite him in the ass. Honestly, it was a nice change of pace. The bad news, well… it didn’t keep Pepper from instantly rounding up on him like a harpy once he’d set so much as a foot in the room.

She met him with a hard look of disapproval and one of her patented _What were you thinking, Tony?_ Behind her, Maya only shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing at Tony every two or so seconds, her expression a mesh of confusion. She obviously didn’t know if it was wise to interrupt Pepper at this point, and ultimately opted to stay quiet. Which was the intelligent thing to do.

Tony sighed inwardly and wished he’d just stayed in the workshop. He could see the wheels spinning in Pepper’s gorgeous head and knew she wouldn’t let him off easily for this. He was quiet for a minute, listening to Pepper reprimanding him like a child, then said, almost reflectively, “I think I’m having a déjà vu here…”

He heard Pepper and Steve sigh in concession. “It’s not only us,” Pepper said a bit calmer. “It’s your team as well. You didn’t even… God, you didn’t even _warn_ anyone. Who _does_ things like that?” She turned around then without waiting for a reply. She wasn’t walking away, though, but her shoulders were shaking with tension. Tony glared at her back for a few seconds, then exhaled deeply and realized he was being foolish.

He still believed he’d only been looking out for their best interest, but the logical part of his brain had long before realized that he’d probably not taken the best course of action to make them understand that. Still. It would be nice, if someone just _once_ exhibited a little faith in his ability to make the right decision. “I am trying to protect you,” he said quietly, to both Steve and Pepper.

Pepper huffed at that, crossing her arms, as she turned around again. “How is that protecting us?”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “We need him to make a move now. Everyone is on high alert anyway. What is the alternative? To wait until he just decides to assassinate one of us? Until he realizes we are the only force who can oppose him?”

Next to him, Steve sighed heavily and shook his head. “The alternative is to talk to us first. I’m not saying you are wrong about this, but you need to let us in on your plans from now on.”

“I…” Tony started, pointing a finger at Steve. Then he trailed off, because of course, he was right. He needed to learn to trust the others. He’d learned to trust Steve, after all. And he did—with all his heart. Even back then, after he’d just found out about Steve’s deception, he’d known that he would trust him again. And he did. He did want to trust the others, too, but he just… Tony lowered his head, resignation shuddering through his body. He wasn’t being fair to any of them. If he wanted the Avengers to work, he needed to learn to let go of his wariness. This was his team, his friends, his _family_ , and if he couldn’t trust them, then why was he even trying to make it work in the first place?

And the more he thought about it, the more simplistic the answer became. He was looking at it too hard—expecting a complicated solution when there was none. This was something he could only achieve by trying. This wasn’t a decision he had to make, he had to live it, and he was willing to do so from now on.

Suddenly, next to them, Maya gasped with wide eyes. “Uh, guys?” she asked, and pointed at one of the wall monitors behind them. Tony turned around, as did Steve and Pepper. There was a life video feed of his house. His house, which was… apparently under fire.

Tony didn’t even have enough time to curse before the missile hit. He saw the helicopters, and in an instant, everything broke apart.

He didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Faint wisps of soft dust slipped over his arms and snagged his neck, roping around his legs before he could so much as blink. And in a hair of an instant, the floor crumbled under him, and he was pushed back to a fierce impact. His head rocked back, a pained gasp clawed for freedom as his mind raced.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Steve grabbing for his shield. He brought himself next to the person closest to him, but Tony couldn’t see if it was Pepper or Maya, before he was eventually swiped of his feet. A scream tore through the hall, as the blast pushed them all high up in the air.

As he landed, Tony blinked hard, gulping harsh breaths and craning his neck the best he could to figure out what had happened. His legs were pressed against the ground to little avail, his feet kicking, his body contorting, and the first thought that went through his brain was: I really need a suit for these kinds of situations.

Next to him, Steve took off without any sort of delay. Maya was sitting on the floor behind him, staring numbly into space. As he ran, Steve looked over at him for half a second, his eyes scanning Tony’s body, before he threw himself forward and tore toward the sound of Pepper’s panicked voice. Tony followed a moment after, forcing himself to stand, and then to race behind Steve through the debris.

Pepper was leaning heavily against the wall. A trail of blood ran down her cheeks and her panic stricken eyes darted aimlessly through the dust around her.

“I got you,” Steve told her, before he bent down and picked her up. He was in full Captain America mode, body tense and ready to spring, deadly expression etched onto his face. He was hard and beautiful, and it was definitely the wrong time to let his thoughts wander like that, but he could do fuck all about it.

From behind them, Maya made a small noise of complaint. She was somewhat staggering, holding her side while attempting to maintain balance on the same note.

“Get her,” Steve told him, as he pulled Pepper behind the shield and against his chest. Then he did a double take, and stared at Tony like he’d grown a second head. “Where is your suit?” he asked with a very strained voice.

That… was a good question. That was a _great_ question, really. And… ah, _shit_. Tony whirled around to look at the ocean, his eyes wide. “I left it in the shop.”

“Why the hell—God, okay, is there another one?”

“I only have pre-New York ones here, and none of them can fly on their own, it’s… wait, I think Mark Seven is here, right? I put it into storage so I didn’t… shit… JARVIS?”

“Sir.” JARVIS voice sounded somewhat distorted. “You asked me to never use Mark Seven again. You never bothered to give it a proper check-up, either.”

Steve’s eyes bore into his and he knew immediately. The bastard knew him too well. “Mark Seven, is that the one which—” His words were cut off, as the second missile hit. The blast pushed Tony away from Steve and right over to the couches.

“What are you waiting for, J,” Tony grunted, as he tried to stand up again. And then there was nothing to do but jump into the thick of it. One second standing in firm preparation, the next he heard the tell-tale swooshing sound of his armor rushing to him.

“Incoming, sir.”

Tony looked over at Steve’s panic stricken eyes. He still cradled Pepper in his arms, and had somehow shouldered Maya, too. His gaze was anxiously bouncing between him and the windows. “It’s just a suit,” he yelled over at him. “It didn’t hurt you. It saved your life.”

“I’m good,” Tony shouted. “Now stop standing there and get the fuck out!” _I’m good_ , he thought, and then he repeated it in his head endlessly as the armor pushed against his body. Heforced himself to keep mental blinders on as it closed up around him. It was all too much… just feeling the suit around his body, knowing where it had taken him… part of him wanted to run, or let the building collapse on him, as long as he didn’t have to relive this again. But he knew it was fruitless. He tried to brace himself, tried to keep his head in the game, but focus became harder to hold onto once the faceplate clicked shut. Looking around at the HUD, all he could think about was how it once had powered down on him when he’d needed it most. Almost immediately, he felt his body pulled into a black hole, there was only void, a starry night, and an endless fall…

“Tony!” Steve yelled, but he sounded far far away. “Don’t shut down on me now. You’re here. You made it out. Now, move! _Please_.”

Tony nodded as though he understood. “Got it,” he shouted back, forcing himself out of the haze. “Get them out, I’ll be right behind you!”

“Tony,” Steve said with hesitation he’d never before displayed on the battlefield. There was open fear in his eyes, too, but he seemed to get a hold on it. He nodded sharply, and gripped both women with determination. Then he shot Tony one last glance, before he turned towards what once had been the front door and ran out.

There was noise all around him. The endless crackles of debris falling down. He was sucked and jerked in every which direction. “Alright,” he ground out. “This thing can still fly, right?”

“I am currently unable to analyze that data, sir.”

“That’s… so not what I wanted to hear, buddy.” Tony tried to give full power on the foot thrusters. The suit shook a little, but ultimately lifted off ground. A tugging gasp rose to Tony’s throat, as he saw the helicopters aiming at the house again, and all he knew was that he had to keep swinging. So he grasped for the nearest object—which happened to be his mother’s grand piano—and jabbed it in the general direction of the ocean.

Tony knew, he was not necessarily one for forethought, but he always took pride in being prepared when it came to fighting battles. For this, he had been anything but prepared, but it didn’t keep him from making the best of his situation. He tossed two more repulsorblasts at the flying piano and pushed it directly into one of the helicopters.

He had quickly lost sight of the others, but he knew Steve would get them out safely. Through the mass of dust and rubble, Tony tried to make his way out. The armor was in a shit condition, and he felt metal parts slice their way across his skin, and blood trickling over his forehead.

For a moment he thought he could just lift off and be done with this, but then something changed. A heavy rumble tore through the ground and it wasted no time in gaining quick momentum. The impact had Tony flying forward—and he tried to gain balance with his gauntlets, but nothing seemed to work.

“J?” Tony grunted, as he fell hard. The ground was sagging in a severe angle now and he started to glide down on it. There were warnings blinking in front of his eyes, _System failure_ , all over, and he’d seen that before, had seen it right before—

“I am very sorry sir,” JARVIS said, and despite his calm words, his mechanical voice shook with anxiety. “There seems to be a problem with the power supply.”

Tony laughed a bit hysterically. “I _am_ the power supply. What the fuck—” Another tremulous quake commanded the ground. Tony stumbled against the proffered sturdiness, and his head wallowed in sharp shots of pain that made their way steadfast across his body. The tremors seizing the ground grew even stronger. “J, come on, buddy, get me out of—”

“Tony!” Steve yelled, and for a second Tony was so relieved to hear his voice, before he realized what that meant and no, no, no, _NO_ —

“No! Turn around! Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled, and tried to stand up again. Steve, of course, didn’t hear any of it. He was running towards him with full speed, and held up the shield over his head to fight off the rubble falling down on him. The ground beneath his feet was slipping, though, and there was still debris falling down on him heavily and…

The first thing that came to Tony’s mind was: Steve looks really fucking scared. Not at all like Captain America. A tower of fortitude torn down in a matter of seconds. He never would have imagined that Steve could look so afraid. And then he saw the ceiling coming down on him, and that was… _No. Just, no_. This couldn’t happen. Steve wouldn’t go down now. Not like this. He couldn’t have just found Steve, to lose him again over something like this.

“ _TONY!_ ” Steve shouted, and the bastard didn’t even pay attention to the wall crumbling down above his head. He didn’t mind anything happening around himself—his eyes were stuck on Tony.

“ _Steve! STOP!_ ” he yelled, and manually pushed open the faceplate with his fingers. “The ceiling! Turn around, please, Steve, _get out!_ ” He stared at Steve with what he hoped wasn’t pure devastation. But whatever Steve saw there, it only made him run faster. Tony tried for a repulsorblast, then, to shoot away the huge bricks of stones coming down on Steve. It was no use. His gauntlets weren’t reacting anymore, and he couldn’t… God… he couldn’t _do_ anything. The earth was still quaking around them, and the walls came tumbling down one after another, and then… then the ceiling collapsed on top of Steve and buried him beneath it.

There were no words. Tony just stared, unblinking, and he didn’t understand. What was even happening? _How_ could this happen? The next instant, the ground swamped, and then he was falling. He willed his eyes shut for a few seconds, breathing in deep.

Pain was secondary. He had to remember that. Pain was a sensation that would fade once he made it out of here. And he _had_ to make it out of here. Water shifted around him, and JARVIS must’ve been able to regain some kind of control of the armor, because a second before he was pulled under, the faceplate clicked down again. Tony saw himself fading into a seemingly endless, unforgiving sea, and God, he needed to make it out before the house buried him on the ground. He tried to hold onto consciousness, knew he had to make it through if he wanted to get Steve out of the collapsing building.

Because Steve was alive. It wasn’t up for discussion. Steve was okay.

He had to be.

God, what had he done? How could he have possibly been so stupid? This was his fault. His alone. If Steve was dead, it was on him. On no one else. He had brought this on them, and Pepper—God, Pepper… Tony gasped, as water flooded his helmet, and the remains of his house were pulling him down, strangling him with loose cables and pushing him forward like a chunk of stone. It was dark and cold and the lights around him faded with a terrifying finality. Then he was on the ground, buried like he was already dead, and the world was caving in all around him.

“JARVIS…” Tony whispered into the darkness, and he couldn’t do as much as move a finger. Even if he hadn’t been trapped, he wouldn’t have been able to move. Not when there was nothing but darkness around him, and the HUD had once again vanished right before his eyes. God, he was dying… “J, buddy,” he choked, and it was a goodbye of some sorts, and—with a last surge of power—he pushed against the rubble above him with both hands.

There was a flicker. Sudden. Short. Burning with so much luminosity in the blackness around him. “Take a deep breath, sir,” JARVIS said with an admirably serene voice. He felt the gauntlet removing itself from his fingers, felt the coldness of the ocean around his hand, before the metal fingers dug into his skin and pulled him upwards.

“Flight power restored,” JARVIS chimed in. And that was the last thing Tony knew before the world fell away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Sir, Sir!”

He awoke in a dark, closed space. Flat on his back, arms at his side, and he could _feel_ the cold beneath him. The entire place was freezing cold, and wherever he was, it was pitch black, and he could not see at all.

“Sir…” The familiar mechanical voice shook through his haze, but this time, it was more white noise than actual sound, and a moment later, the hum faded completely.

“JARVIS?” Tony breathed, and then he remembered. The suit. And, on a second thought: the house, Malibu, Steve, Pepper, _oh God_ … He tried to rise, but he couldn’t sit up, couldn’t even lift his arms. The armor wasn’t responding, it was pinning him to the ground, and he felt the panic overwhelm him in an almost animal fear of suffocation and entrapment. He screamed against his helmet, and his palms pounded against the gauntlets. “JARVIS! Open eject! Come on, come on, _come_ _on!_ ”

There was no answer, but as Tony shook from side to side, the entire suit finally opened up. Tony immediately rolled over on his stomach and straight into an icy cold puddle. He laid there a moment, stunned, as snowflakes blew past him, and the wind blowing more cold air right into his face as it went by. Fuck, his head was killing him. Why did he always end up with a migraine whenever he lost consciousness?

As he sputtered, he became aware of the ice seeping in through the front of his t-shirt. Tony groaned, rolling forward into a sitting position, and wiggled two fingers into his ears to stop the ringing. Once his ears popped and he succeeded in stretching the muscles in his face well enough to dull the ache in his cranium, he looked up at the night sky and was met with a face full of snow from the tree above him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, shuddering. About every curse word he knew went through his head, most of them directed at himself. But instead of voicing them he just sighed, wiped his eyes, and looked around to get his bearings. God, he needed to get to Steve, he needed…

“Fuck, this is cold,” he gasped, and looked down at the suit. For a moment he thought about stepping back in, but… God, he couldn’t. It had been Hell to be in that suit again and if he never had to go through that particular experience for the rest of life again it would be too soon. “J?” He leaned closer the helmet and spoke straight into one of the transmitters. “JARVIS?”

“Sir?” came the somewhat confused reply.

“Buddy,” Tony breathed with relieve. He looked around, and… he was in some sort of forest, and he could see the vague lights of a town nearby. “Where am I? Upstate?”

“We’re five miles outside of Rose Hills, Tennessee, sir.”

That was… oh well. “The flight plan,” he sighed in defeat as he remembered, and looked down at the suit. Damn it. Here goes nothing. ”Is the armor still able to fly, or—”

“I… I think I may be malfunctioning, sir. I cannot track golf car, cannot, not, not, no—, n—”

“JARVIS,” Tony said and pressed down on the control panel of the armor. The light wasn’t blinking anymore. “Come on. Don’t leave me, buddy,” he said with a tight voice, but there was no reaction. JARVIS was gone. He was alone. Truly alone.

Tony hugged himself against the icy wind. He remembered Steve’s face into those last seconds. How his eyes had fastened on him, large and round, and wholly terrified. The determination, but also the wide shock on his face, as he’d realized he wouldn’t make it to Tony in time. And then the ceiling. God, the whole ceiling had collapsed on Steve… and just like that, he’d been gone…

“Please be okay…” Tony choked and turned his eyes upward again, gaze directed at the horizon. “You have to be okay, Steve. I can’t… I can’t do this without you. I don’t _want_ to. Please be okay, please… just don’t be dead.”

 _There have to be buildings somewhere_ , the still functioning part of his mind usefully supplied, and yes, he needed to get moving. He needed to get to a telephone, and let the others know he was still kicking. Slowly, he stood up, but his stiff joints didn’t even want to budge at first. Every flex of muscle had his body screaming. Tony gasped a harsh, raucous exhale that cracked against his lung. He swallowed hard and lifted himself onto shaking arms.

His jaw tightened and the rest of him hardened with resolve. He needed to push through this, however tired his body seemed to think it was. So he forced himself to drag a few inches forward with a gust of borrowed energy.

Tony’s freezing fingers grasped the cold armor on the ground, leveraging its weight the best he could while his heavy legs edged forward another few inches. There wasn’t much to see through the thick snow beyond a few feet in front of him, and there was every chance that the scene before him wouldn’t change anytime soon.

There was nothing but darkness before him.


	4. Ravages of Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments <3 Thanks to morphia for her late-night beta'ing!

**Steve**

 

There was nothing but darkness before him.

It felt like he’d been swimming through the dark water for hours and by now, every movement felt like gripping a knife. It forced a strong surge of pain through his muscles—pain that was easy to ignore in short bursts, but certainly not in wave after wave of consistency.

Steve was used to fatigue. He’d lost count of how many times he had to operate purely on adrenaline, during an especially long stakeout or a battle that took a little longer than anticipated. This was different, though. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical. It ran so deep it slowly seeped into his bones. It made his hands tremble uncontrollably, and throbbed with an incessant ache behind his eyes.

The cold darkness was everywhere, all around him, and in his heart. There was no light down here, and all he was searching for, all he needed so desperately, was a little circle of light. He felt frozen to the bones, a potent reminiscence of his plane crash all those years ago. He felt the serum reacting to it, too, felt it trying to shut him down once more, but he forced his body to hang on. Forced it to move forward. Pain wasn’t a foreign sensation for him. Sure, his tolerance level was much higher than the average human being, but he felt pain like everyone else, too. Right now, though, his skin was humming with awareness, and sharp pangs were seizing his frozen lungs sending echoes of hurt through his body with every breath he couldn’t take.

The muscles in his arms and legs were tense and his nerves were strangled with a bizarre tingling sensation he didn’t know how to label. In the shadows of the ocean, he kept seeing the light of Tony’s arc reactor, but whenever he got nearer, it turned out to be nothing more than wishful thinking.

He kept seeing Tony’s face, too. Kept seeing the widened shock of his eyes and the oddly serene look, which had overcome him in those final moments. The acceptance in his features, and it was slowly driving him mad.

Steve dove even deeper, once more ignoring the pain in his lungs. It wasn’t impossible for him to drown, he _knew_ that, but his body wasn’t at its limits yet and he wouldn’t stop searching until it was.

However, his resolution didn’t last.

Suddenly, a roaring sound resounded through the black water, followed by a deafening crash. And before Steve could so much as blink, a huge, green hand grabbed him at the arms and pulled him upwards. The next thing he knew, he was all but thrown onto the cliff. He landed with a loud thud, and stared into the starry sky above him. Next to him laid the remains of one of Tony’s Audis. He blinked a few times before glancing sideways, right into the furious face of the Hulk.

“What?” Steve croaked, looking around. The cold was seeping through his body, and once he started coughing, his muscles cramped hard. Everything ached like he’d been run over. He focused on his breathing, forcing it to an even keel until it didn’t sound so choked.

“God, Steve, have you lost your mind?” a female voice shouted and Steve had to glance backwards over his head to see Pepper hovering over him. “You’ve been down there for almost an _hour!_ ”

“I…” Steve coughed again and looked around. The other woman—Maya Hansen—stood somewhat awkwardly next to Pepper, her gaze fixed on the ocean beneath them. “I had it under control,” he said with a raspy voice.

“Cap no control,” Hulk growled with narrowed eyes that made him look so much like Bruce. “Cap drowning.”

When the coughing stopped, he slowly sat up. The skin on his hands did look sort of bluish, so maybe he’d really pushed his body too far. “How’d you get here, big guy?” he asked Hulk, who finally backed up a little, and only gave him an annoyed grunt.

“He came with us.”

The voice was familiar, but it was a voice he’d been sure he would never hear again. It couldn’t be… it _couldn’t_ be, because… Steve whirled around and was met with the face of a dead man.

“Coulson,” Steve gasped. “What… _Oh my God_. How?”

Coulson smiled kindly and lifted a hand in greeting. His Adam’s apple was prominent when his head tipped backwards with a shrug. “Missed me?” In spite of the casual tone, Steve could see it wasn’t a glib question. When he met Coulson’s gaze, the evident need for reassurance in his eyes would have crushed Steve, were he not already broken.

With his mind hazed, he nodded as best he could. He had to battle the tears that stung his eyes, because he really wished Tony could be here with him right now. He’d be so relieved… and so happy. He’d try to hide all that, of course, but Steve would _know_ and… God. Tony. The empty clamor in his chest thundered, and it felt like every inch of him was enveloped in grief. How often did he have to watch Tony die?

Steve looked back up at Coulson, and there was so much understanding in his eyes that Steve had to glance away again. Jesus, he’d seen Coulson’s lifeless body, he had personally bent down to feel his still pulse. Coulson had been dead, and that meant that _somehow_ SHIELD had brought him back. And they hadn’t told them. Not a damn word.

Had Natasha known? Did it matter? He wasn’t going to press Coulson for answers, not now, at least. Not when the sky was falling all around him. Not until he had Tony back—had him safely curled in his embrace.

“How long have you been back?” he asked instead, scolding himself inwardly for the way he couldn’t stop trembling.

Coulson offered a small smile. “I’m not really sure, to be honest,” he said, and there was a heaviness in his tone Steve had never heard before, a new weight Coulson seemed to carry with him. It was so strange seeing him like this. His eyes were somewhat emptier than he remembered them—more burdened—but they were similarly resolved in determination. Whatever had happened to him, Steve had a feeling it hadn’t been pleasant. But he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and Steve knew better than to push. He could only hope that there would come a point where Coulson would tell them. “Come on,” the man prompted gently. He took a step forward and offered a hand to Steve.

A heavy breath passed through Steve’s lips. “Er… thanks.” He looked at the Hulk. “For pulling me out, too. I guess I really wasn’t in my right mind.”

Hulk grunted and gave him some kind of _duh_ expression, that would have been hilarious at a different time, while Pepper pushed a big towel in his direction. “Don’t ever do that again,” she said, and looked up at him as if to argue, but seemed to think better of it—which Steve was glad of. When he didn’t respond, though, she laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Steve…” she said with a choked voice.

Steve released a long sigh and grabbed hold of Coulson’s hand. He rose to his feet, before he tentatively pulled Pepper into a hug, wet clothes be damned. “It’s gonna be alright,” he said after a moment. She hugged him tightly and for a moment he could pretend that the wrecked ruins surrounding them didn’t exist. This was the place he’d fallen in love with Tony, the place where Tony had fallen in love with him, and now it was gone. Just like that.

Pepper drew back a little, pressing her brows against his shoulder. “I can’t lose any more people,” she said, the words nearly tugging his heart to bits.

He allowed himself a weak smile, leaning back in their embrace. “You haven’t lost anyone yet.”

Pepper sighed against his neck. “Steve, by now he’d—”

“Don’t,” he said firmly. He wouldn’t hear it. _He would not_. “He isn’t down there. He got out. Somehow. And he’s alive. I’m sure of it.”

Pepper let go of his shoulder, reaching up to absent-mindedly scratch at the bandage on her forehead. Steve felt guilt surging through him that he hadn’t even spared a thought for her well-being over the last hours. Pepper must have sensed his worried stare, because in a moment, she’d leaned against him and slung an arm around his waist. “I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you for getting me out.”

Steve slowly shook his head, leaned down and kissed the place next to bandage. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Pepper nodded, and offered him a small, genuine smile. Then her eyes wandered once more over to the still ocean. Steve knew she’d almost lost Tony before. During his kidnapping, she’d survived through months of uncertainty and never once lost hope.

Pepper knew what Tony’s death would do to Steve, because she would feel it, too.

In loving Tony, they were kindred souls.

 

 

* * *

 

 

About half an hour later, there were five helicopters methodically moving over the ocean. Underneath Steve’s feet, the sea was calm and unmoving, while a few diving lights cut through the dark like knives. There was still a bit of rubble and splintered wood surging against the cliffs, but apart from that, the sea was calm… soothing even, in the dim light of the sunset.

Steve had taken a shower and changed clothes while Coulson had given his orders to search every cubic meter of the ocean surrounding the cliff.

Back when Steve and Tony had lived here, back when their feelings had still been a secret, Steve had always enjoyed this time of night most. The early evenings, when the warmth of the day still persisted, but the setting sun was low enough so that you could easily step outside on the patio, even in the heat of the summer. Today, the sunset was particularly beautiful, casting a glow of red and orange over the clouds of the horizon, and painting the sides of the high palm trees with its warm glow. It was a fleeting nature of beauty, of course. As intense as it was in this moment, it would ultimately fade into the night as though it had never been.

The breeze stirring the evergreen leaves and teasing Steve’s blond hair was almost warm, but the cold was still etched deeply into his bones and he only shivered and tugged the towel up around his shoulders. His arms tightened reflexively, and he cast a slight, tired smile over the sea.

They wouldn’t find him, because he wasn’t down in the ocean. He couldn’t be.

_Where are you?_

The feeling of air on his wet hair was like a salve to Steve’s mind. He breathed in deeply, tasting the dust left in the air. A hand lay down on his shoulder, felt it vibrating, and he must be quivering more than he’d realized. He tossed Pepper a little smile and nodded, grasping her fingers with his own and holding them there for a moment.

“We can’t reach JARVIS. The servers are down, and—honestly, I don’t even know where the servers _are_ , so…” She trailed off, as she stepped up next to him. She tipped her head up, caught his eyes with hers, clear and sharp as ever and greener than usual in the muted light. “You’re right. He’s alive. I know I freaked out a bit earlier, but, you’re right. It’s Tony. He got out.”

There really was nothing Steve could say to that. They stood in silence for a moment, shoulders touching, before someone cleared his throat behind them. Booted feet echoed over the tiles, and then Coulson stood next to them, and it was still somewhat like seeing a ghost, but Steve knew the sensation would fade soon enough.

Coulson sighed softly, and his fingers traced absent-minded patterns on the sleeves of his impeccable black suit. “I’ll cancel the search party,” he said. “The divers haven’t found anything. You were right. Stark isn’t down there.”

Steve nodded. He’d known, but… it was good to hear it. “It’s gonna get dark soon. What do we do?” he asked, and—on a second thought—pulled the towel off his shoulders and wrapped it tightly around Pepper’s upper half as another slight gust of wind brought forth a chilled trembling in her body. She smiled up at him, though her eyes remained anxious.

The motion of Coulson’s fingers against the fabric of his suit stilled as he began speaking, voice full of firm conviction. “I think we should talk to Miss Hansen,” he said.

Pepper frowned slightly. “The botanist?” she asked, gripping the towel tightly. “Is she even still here?”

“Oh, we made sure of that,” Coulson answered, watching as Steve’s eyes widened in understanding. “She’s not a botanist, though,” he explained. “She’s a top of the class biological DNA coder with a genius intellect. And lately, she’s been running a team of forty people for a company called AIM.”

Next to him, Pepper did a double take. “AIM? That’s… that’s Killian’s company.” She looked up at Steve. “The guy Happy followed to the TLC.”

Steve felt his expression hardening. “You think she’s involved in this,” he said to Coulson. and it wasn’t a question.

Coulson shrugged his shoulders, and threw him a hesitant smile. “It’s an option we’ve taken into consideration, yes.”

Steve knew he was probably grasping too hard and too fast for a straw, and objectively speaking, there was every chance that Maya Hansen was just an innocent visitor but God, he needed to do _something_. “Where is she?” he asked.

“Steve,” Pepper warned, almost in a whisper.

“She’s already being interrogated.”

“ _Where?_ ” Steve asked again, his voice more demanding now.

Coulson exhaled through his teeth. Then he turned around and nodded in the general direction of the few vans lining up the parking slots. “I’ll come with you,” he supplied softly, shedding his jacket.

Pepper lifted a perfectly shaped brow at him. “What kind of interrogation are we talking here?”

Coulson offered an awkward smile. “We’ll be aiming for conversation.”

Pepper glanced up, and met Steve’s eyes once more. Then she released a deep breath, and nodded slowly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The conversation inside the van was… well, stilted and awkward was probably an adequate way to put it. Maya Hansen was… emphatically cooperative. She talked quietly, her voice was always polite, and she made it seem as though her answers were nothing but the truth. Coulson was polite as well, he was nodding his way through the whole deal, kept smiling at her and never once made it seem as though he didn’t have the time of his life by listening to her.

It was… well, it was driving Steve crazy. Over an hour passed and he grew fidgety, feeling anxious when everyone had something to do but him.

He knew, of course, from his training—from everything he’d learned from Natasha—that it was easier to get information out of someone who didn’t want to talk when said someone didn’t know you were even fishing for information. Objectively, he knew what Coulson was doing, the problem was, he just felt so _useless_ , and he felt the time slipping through his fingers like sand.

Maya’s face didn’t betray anything—no tension, no fear—but Steve was sure that she tried to hide something. He could _feel_ that she was distraught. And if whatever she knew brought him nearer to Tony, he had to find out _now_.

“I’m afraid the information SHIELD has on your work is rudimentary at best, Miss Hansen,” Coulson continued with excessive patience, leaning casually against the wall beside where Maya was sitting on a wooden chair. “But I am curious why you decided to visit Mr. Stark today.”

“As I told you,” she began, and her voice was too even, too calm, and Steve could tell she was forcing it. “Tony and I, we were…” She glanced at Steve for a second. “We have history. And I got stuck with a project of mine, and I just wanted… a fresh pair of eyes, that’s all.”

A slow sort of understanding smile lit up on Coulson’s face. He was trying to cheer her up, so much was clear, but Steve didn’t have time for pleasantries, he had no time to wait for her to slowly come to the right decision. It was tedious. It was slow. And it only managed to mount his tension to even more uncomfortable levels.

“You’re lying,” he said, copying Coulson’s pose as he folded his arms.

“Steve…” Coulson warned, and his voice was tense now.

“No.” Steve straightened his spine and lifted his chin to look down on Maya. “You were anxious when you showed up. This was no casual visit. You had a purpose. You were afraid. Heck, you still are.”

They stood in tense silence, staring at one another for a long moment, both defiant, rolling their chins to the side in restraint. Then, Maya started to chew on her lip and glanced sideways. “I think…” She breathed in deep. “I think my boss might be working for the Mandarin.” She hazarded a quick glance to Steve before looking back to Coulson.

“That boss of yours, does he have a name?” Steve asked tightly, and he already knew, of course, the puzzle pieces they’d come across in the last half year were slowly settling into a picture, but he needed to hear it anyway.

She closed her eyes and Steve watched as she tried to compose herself, taking slow, laborious breaths. “Aldrich Killian.”

Steve nodded slowly as his focus veered off into the distance. Killian hadn’t been mentioned in Tony’s file, he was sure of that. And there never had been any kind of business between SI and AIM.

Coulson cast him a thoughtful glance. “Stark ever mentioned him before the attack on TLC?”

Steve shook his head as if to clear it, pressing his eyes closed for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Please,” Maya said, and her tone was grave. “I didn’t know the Mandarin would attack the TLC, or your house. I certainly wouldn’t have been here today if I’d known. I just came here to talk to Tony.”

“You honestly want us to believe that you accidentally paid Tony a visit on the exact same day, in the exact same time that the boss of your boss decided to blow up this house?” Steve snapped irritably.

Maya shuddered and turned her face away from him. She folded her arms and looked sternly at the wall. “Can I request a lawyer?”

“Miss Hansen,” Coulson said calmly.

She shook her head, firmly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

This was it. He couldn’t wait for her to crack. He started to step forward, then thought better of it when she flinched visibly. “ _Try us_ ,” he said, voice firm.

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction and she gave him a guilty look. “I was in too deep, I couldn’t have…” Her chin quivered, and it was hard to tell if it was an act or not.

Steve didn’t say anything. Just looked at her. Long. Expectant. Uncompromising. It was probably the expression Tony had once titled _The Mighty Glare_ , but if it got him the results he needed, he couldn’t care less.

“Steve,” Coulson said in a gentle warning, and when Steve looked over at him, he noticed, for the first time, that Coulson looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. There was an angry red rim that lined almost bloodshot eyes, and there was a sag in his shoulders that Steve was sure hadn’t been there before.

Then, there was movement behind them. “Captain Rogers?” One of the SHIELD agents cautiously opened the door of the van, and held up a phone. “It’s Agent Romanov for you.”

Steve frowned and reflexively grabbed into the front pocket of his leather jacket where he used to keep his phone. It was gone. He must have lost it during the attack, then, and he hadn’t even noticed it missing. As Steve’s fingers moved around, Tony’s screwdriver fell out onto the floor with a loud clang, and everyone simultaneously looked down at it.

Great.

Slowly, Steve bent down to pick it up, and stared numbly at the hot-rod red handle. His mouth scrunched to the side and he looked away from the compassionate looks directed at him. He breathed in deep, and it was all he could do not to break down in front of them.

After a moment, Steve nodded briskly in the direction of the SHIELD agent, excused himself and left the van. When he’d closed the sliding door behind him, he accepted the phone with a little forced smile and a mumbled thanks. Then he walked off to some secluded area in the ruins of the villa.

“Rogers,” he said into the speaker.

“Got something of yours you might want back,” Natasha said with a very deep voice.

Steve sighed heavily, and his gaze landed on a few broken picture frames which, until a few of hours ago, had hung right over Tony’s and his bed. “I’m really not in the mood for games, Nat.”

“I figured,” Natasha said, back to her normal voice, and then she was chuckling.

“Why are you so chipper,” he snapped, and then, on a second thought, “Wait—”

“I’ll put him through,” she said with a soft voice, and God. Oh _God_. Just like that, the dark and ugly feeling in his gut fell into pure relief. Steve couldn’t even wrap his mind around it, as the world around him faded to a dull buzz. For a moment, he didn’t hear. He understood, but he didn’t hear.

“Breathe, champ. He’s fine.” Then there was some sort of clicking noise in the line, and then, the most beautiful sound…

“Steve?”

Steve drew a deep, shuddering breath. Then he started to nod frantically, even though he knew Tony couldn’t see him. “Tony,” he choked out, thanking whoever had made it possible that he was able to hear that voice again, as he leaned heavily against a still standing column.

“Steve,” Tony repeated in wonder, and then his voice grew louder and agitated. “Where is your goddamn phone? Who the fuck does _not_ answer his phone after something like this? God, I thought… Steve, I thought… I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I’ve been such a dickhead. This will never happen again, I promise, I… shit, _are you alright?_ ”

“Am _I_ —,” Steve choked out, wiping at his suddenly wet eyes.He swallowed and began again, his voice rough and unsteady.“Dammit, Tony. Yes, I’m fine. Are _you?_ ”

Tony gave him a short bogus laugh. “Peachy. And Pepper?”

“She’s okay,” Steve assured him. “Beside herself with worry, but… okay. I’m going to tell her right away. Where _are_ you?”

Tony huffed a somewhat self-deprecating laugh. “Remember the flight plan JARVIS created before we got bombed?”

It took him a moment to put himself together, his eyes unfocused. He tried to work through Tony’s words in his head, slowly getting them in order. Then he blinked himself back into focus. “You’re in Tennessee?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. He paused, and Steve could hear him scratch his goatee. “Look Steve, tell Pepper not to announce my not-death right away, yeah? Better let the Mandarin think he did me in. Someone once told me it doesn’t hurt to stay under the radar from time to time, right?”

Steve smiled as he remembered. “Must be a master strategist.”

“The best,” Tony said, and while there was some humor in his voice, Steve didn’t think he was teasing. “And despite what people think about me, sometimes I actually listen. I’ll send you my location as soon as the damn server— _no you gotta insert the chip here, kiddo_ —as soon as the damn server is back online.”

Steve frowned a little, considering. “Who’s with you?”

“That’s…” Tony started, muttering something under his breath. “That’s Harley. Clever kid. I kind of maybe broke into his garage. Yeah, don’t say it, I know. I’ll pay his college loans or something. We’re trying to get the suit back online. And he’s gonna show me that place in town where the bomb detonated, right kiddo? Maybe I can find something there in the meantime.”

There was a young voice in the background, but Steve couldn’t really make out the words. He nodded, simply relieved that Tony that wasn’t alone right now. Then Steve tilted his head to the side, as he saw a de-Hulked Bruce purposefully walking over to the van where Coulson must be still be interrogating Maya. Huh.

“Okay, good. I’ll meet you there,” he said.

Tony cleared his throat, and Steve could hear him walking. “Babe?” he asked quietly.

Steve hummed pleasantly at the nickname. “Yeah?”

“I stole a poncho.”

Steve barked a laugh at the absurdity of that, ever grateful for this moment, knowing he would have Tony by his side again, soon. That he wouldn’t have to be alone again. That he could love Tony and keep on loving him forever. “I won’t tell,” he whispered against the phone, and he had to choke back tears.

There was an audible trembling in Tony’s voice, too, as he said, “It smells funny.”

He nodded, and felt his eyes moistening. “I’ll bring you new clothes.”

“Babe?”

“Mmm?”

“I do love you. I’m really sorry.”

Steve nodded again, and bit back the sob that threatened to pass his lips. “Don’t be. I love you, too. So much. Stay safe, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

There was a long pause, and Steve knew Tony was probably trying to get his bearings. “See you in a few,” he said a little heavily, and then the line went dead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bruce was standing next to Coulson, as Steve stepped back in the van. The transformation had obviously not fazed him all that much this time. He looked very calm. There was still a somewhat dangerous glimmer in his eyes, and a lingering tension in his muscles, but otherwise, he seemed to be holding up just fine. And even though Bruce was denying it vehemently—Steve knew he was getting better at it with every try.

“Thanks for coming, Bruce. Sorry you had to…” Steve said and nodded in the vague direction of the ocean. “It was stupid to stay under so long.”

Bruce smiled at him wryly and waved him off. “It’s fine. It’s okay to lose control at a time like that.” He shuffled at bit. “I think the other guy was genuinely worried about you. It was… a strange feeling from this side on. He hasn’t really… worried about anyone in a long time.”

Steve nodded gratefully. He opened his mouth to tell them about Tony, when—

“We already know,” Coulson stepped in, and looked at Steve with a genuine smile, as did Bruce. Then, hardly visible, Coulson bit his bottom lip.

_Don’t give anything away_.

Right.

Steve nodded briskly. “Natasha called you?” he asked casually, and got another nod. “Did she have a chance to talk to Pepper, because—”

“Yes, she did,” Coulson said. “Pepper said she’d get you some clothes for the trip.”

Steve smiled a little in acknowledgment of that. Pepper’s efficiency was sure unparalleled.

“I ordered two Quinjets,” Coulson told him. “ETA twenty.”

Steve nodded his thanks, and then… then he turned around, and stopped short.

He hadn’t actually paid any attention to Maya yet. She wasn’t sitting on the chair anymore, but on the floor, hunched in one the corners, knees pulled up against her chin. She was staring numbly at the opposite wall, as a few tears slowly trailed down her white cheeks. “What happened here?” Steve asked, looking from Coulson to Bruce.

“I never wanted to…” Maya mumbled in a dazed kind of shock. She wasn’t looking at anyone in particular; she just stared off into the distance. “I was wide-eyed. I just… wanted to create something… pure…”

Coulson cleared his throat, a wry little smile on his face. “She’s having a moment.”

“I’d say.” Steve frowned, and turned to Bruce. “Did you do that?”

Bruce shrugged with an almost devious smirk that Steve had only ever seen on Hulk’s face before. “I might be able to get a little green without actually transforming, these days.”

Steve lifted an impressed brow and chuckled. “I gotta see that sometime,” he said, before turning back to Coulson. “Did she give us any useful information on the Mandarin?”

Coulson exchanged a meaningful look with Bruce. “It’s… a bit more complicated than we thought it was.” A pause. “There is no Mandarin.”

Steve looked up sharply, a million questions bombarding his mind at once.

“Oh there is,” Maya whispered behind them. She took a deep, cathartic breath, letting it out slowly. She had closed her eyes at some point, and Steve wondered if it gave her strength to not see the world around her. “Killian… he calls himself the _true Mandarin_. Trevor is just a… distraction… and a cover.”

Steve shook his head a little. “Trevor?”

“Trevor Slattery,” Coulson explained. “He’s a British actor. And he works for Killian. The Mandarin is a hoax.”

“For what? Why?” Steve asked, and his brow furrowed in deep confusion.

Maya did open her eyes then, and she whispered, “He was… only meant to be a disguise, at first, but… once Killian realized how useful it was to have a national enemy at his hands, he… also realized how easy it is to manipulate the public opinion. He thinks if he can control the world’s number one terrorist…” She trailed off, letting out a brief, humorless laugh and shaking her head.

“Then what?” Steve demanded, taking a step forward.

This time, Maya met his approach with an almost apathetic look. “Then he can also manipulate the government… the president… and the whole country, for that matter. Sooner or later he’ll _own_ the war on terror and he can simply create the demand he needs for the Extremis soldiers.”

“Extremis? What’s Extremis?” Coulson asked. He looked wary, but also somehow curious.

Maya laughed at that, an almost hysterical edge to it. “Oh, nothing. It’s… only my life’s work.”

“The virus?” Bruce asked, voice carefully blank. “I think I read about that, once…”

“A _virus?_ ” Steve asked slowly, glancing at Bruce, before he turned, just in time to see Maya’s face transform from defensive into something more somber. “Is that the project you talked about? The one you were stuck on?”

Maya nodded with a sigh. “I created Extremis to… heal,” she started, and there was a pensive faraway look on her face. “It was meant to regenerate and to help people, to make them stronger, faster, healthier… and it _does_. It’s just… it’s not entirely stable. I _told_ Killian not to test it on humans yet, but he…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I tried to make it save first. That’s why…”

“…you came to Tony,” Steve finished for her gravely.

“So that’s what these orange glowing guys are,” Bruce commented, pensive.

“I was _trying_ to…” She trailed off again for a moment, pointing at Bruce. “…to talk to you about it, a few years ago, but you’re… really hard to get a finger on for a huge green guy.”

Steve shook his head. He let out an aggravated puff of air, somehow managing to bite back the list of reprimands he was dying to sling her way. “Okay, just… to make me understand all this: You wanted to convince Tony—or Bruce—to perfect some sort of _virus_ for your psychopath boss. A virus that he uses to make himself an army of strong, fast, and practically immortal people.”

Maya swallowed hard. “I didn’t do it for _him_ , I—”

“But Stark’s not a nuclear physicist, despite what he seems to believe,” Coulson chimed in. “Or a bio-technologist, for that matter. What made you think he could’ve helped you?”

Maya leaned up a little and shoved a hand down one of her jeans pockets. She pulled a paper card out of it. It was obviously old, stained and full of little cracks. There were a few words scribbled down on it, and Steve recognized the handwriting immediately.

_YOU KNOW WHO I AM_

He took the card in his hand, and rubbed a thumb over the words. “Tony wrote this?”

Maya nodded towards the card. “Turn it.”

He did. There was some sort of formula that he probably wouldn’t have been able to understand even if he’d have more than just two very rudimentary years of math under his belt. He furrowed his brows and gave the card to Bruce.

“It may not be exactly Tony’s area of expertise,” Maya started, “but he… he almost fixed the formula in a _single_ night. He gave me this and… _this_ gave Extremis a whole new perspective.”

“That’s… really amazing,” Bruce said with a little surprised frown.

Maya nodded eagerly. “And it’s practically stable now.”

Bruce looked up, and was quiet for a moment as he apparently measured his words. “When you say it’s _practically_ stable, you mean…”

Something clicked, then. Steve gasped and looked first at Bruce, then back down on Maya. “The bombings? Those were—people?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way. If you find Tony… and if he’s is able to solve the last glitch, I’m sure I could convince Killian to let go of his plans, I could try to make him see that—”

Coulson held up a hand. “I’m sorry Miss Hansen, but you will never convince a man like Killian to settle for mediocrity. It’s all or nothing for these kind of people,” he said. He got his phone out and pressed a few buttons. “I think that’s enough for now. If he’s trying to get a grip on the government, we should get moving.” At that, he pushed himself from the wall of the van and gently pulled Maya upwards. “We will require Killian’s current location, as well as a list of potential targets. In return, SHIELD will offer you immunity from legal action, under the premise that you’ll solely work for SHIELD’s science department from now on. Under strict full-time supervision.”

There was a long beat of silence ringing through the van, but in the end, they all knew she didn’t have choice.

Maya seemed to come to the same conclusion. She nodded.

“Where will you take her?” Steve asked, trying to catch Coulson’s eyes, as he moved back to give him a bit more room.

“For now, we’ll let her go back to Killian. He thinks we’re out of the game right now and we want it to stay that way.”

Steve frowned thoughtfully, trying to find an alternative to that, and came up empty. His voice lowered as he said, with a fierce edge, “How do we know we can trust her? How do you know she won’t warn him.”

Bruce leaned back casually. “Because she is a scientist,” he said, as if that explained everything. “She knows SHIELD is her only option to ever finish Extremis. As she said, this is her life’s work. She wouldn’t want for it to go to waste, now would she?” He looked at her with an unreadable gaze, and flipped the card between his fingers.

Maya swallowed, and Steve half expected her to argue. But she didn’t, and when Steve looked over, Bruce was glaring dangerously at her as if daring her to disagree with him. Steve felt a surge of gratitude, and a renewed sense of relief that whatever was happening here, at least he had his team by his side through it all.

“I won’t tell him anything. Killian and I, we’re not exactly friends, I just…” She sighed and shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. “Will you just… _please_ give this to Tony?“ she asked, voice brisk, and looked pointedly at the card in Bruce hands.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her. “Not my call.” He looked down, and gave the formula one last look-over, before he gave the card back to Steve.

“I know I messed this up,” Maya said with an almost pleading voice that stood in stark contrast to the way she held her head up high. “But if Tony can fix this, maybe we can cure these people… let Extremis do what it was supposed to do…”

Steve shook his head, and only barely resisted the urge to crumble the card in his hand. “However you twist and turn this. This is a weapon.”

Maya huffed out a humorless laugh. “What. And the super-soldier serum wasn’t?”

“No, it was,” Steve admitted. “It _is_. But it was a different time, and a different situation. We don’t need this now.”

“We already have this, Steve,” Bruce said quietly.

Maya nodded with a grateful look before her eyes hardened with conviction once more. “Do you think Killian ever cared that some of our test subjects didn’t survive the transition? That some of them blew up? What makes you think the next power-hungry terrorist will? That’s just casualties for these people, Captain. Why not make it stable? If SHIELD supervises…” She trailed off and took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not even saying you have to make this public, but this already _is_ a weapon, Captain. The only difference is that right now it’s mainly a murder-weapon.”

Steve’s jaw flexed. She… was right. He hated it, but she was right. “Fine,” he conceded after a moment. “I’ll give it to Tony. See what he thinks about it.”

Maya breathed in relief. “That’s all I’m asking. Thank you.”

“I won’t promise you anything. Tony might just say no.”

Maya nodded, and then she looked down with a guilty expression. “It wasn’t my idea. To… abuse Extremis like that. I took his money, yes, but I wanted… I wanted to do good. I wanted to change the world.”

Steve sighed, and gave her a faint smile. “Ignorance is no excuse.”

Maya looked at him with wide eyes, and he only got a glimpse of how her face began to crumble slightly, like she’d known that all along but just had been too afraid to admit it to herself. Steve watched her face fall, like she allowed him to really see her for the briefest of moment. A scared, broken girl, who had grown so desperate for a place in the world that she would literally kill to get it. Then, as Coulson motioned for one of the agents to lead her away, her face hardened once more.

When the three of them stepped out, Pepper was already waiting for them next to the van. She held a larger knapsack in one hand and the familiar round black bag with Steve’s shield in the other. Immediately, she pulled Steve in a tight hug.

“Tony…” Steve started.

“Yeah. Thank God,” Pepper whispered with a wide smile, and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“I want you and Bruce to head back to New York,” he told her after a moment. “Stay with the Avengers for now. We’ll transfer you to the Triskelion after.”

Pepper looked back at him, nodded, and gave him one last hug. He didn’t really remember when they’d gotten close like that, but they had, and he was so grateful to have her. No words needed to be spoken between them—they were friends, they were family, and Steve knew Natasha would look after her. Steve pressed a kiss at her forehead, and everything else was redundant.

Bruce clapped a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “We’ll stay on alert. Tell Tony no one likes repeat performances.”

Steve chuckled in response. Coulson stepped up next to him, and shouldered the knapsack. He looked up at Steve, while Pepper pressed the bag with his shield in Steve’s hand. “Ready?” he asked him.

Steve smiled, and took one last look at the ruins. Now that the sun had set, it was a particularly dark night. There was no single star visible in the sky. Clouds hung low, and the air was pressing down on the earth, creating a noticeable pressure. Steve once more took in the grey broken walls and the cold environment. Then he nodded. “Ready.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, the Quinjet was already well past New Mexico. Steve closed the last report on the tablet and yawned, leaning back in the uncomfortable seat to stretch his arms. He’d been reading through the files about AIM for the better part of the flight, and any longer, his eyes were going to fall out of his head.

“Found anything?” Coulson said, and Steve looked up to see him miraculously pointing a cup of steaming coffee in his direction. He nodded his thanks, and cradled the mug with both hands.

“No,” he began, and pointed at the closed files. “There are no records of any kind of experiments… this is only covering their public image, I guess. Nothing too suspicious. Pretty similar to what Stark Industries did before Tony cut down on weapons. Just… research, development, manufacturing, and well, sales of high end technology.”

Coulson hummed and sat down beside him. “AIM’s reach is worldwide; they only operate under different names from time to time. I guess that’s one of the reasons the reports are so… basic.” Coulson reached for another tablet at his side and gave it to Steve. He took it, and looked down. It was the webpage of the New York Times, and there was a huge black and white portrait of Tony taking up most of the site.

_The unthinkable has happened_ , he read the headline out loud. _The Avengers confirm Tony Stark’s death. Black Widow: ‘We did not only lose a hero, we lost a friend. A partner. The world won’t be the same without Tony Stark in it. The whole team is in deep grief.’_

Steve frowned. “What is this?”

“An obituary. Stark is right,” Coulson said, and it sounded like it physically pained him to say so. He was sipping his own coffee, and eyed him over the rim of the mug, his blue eyes narrowing. “We have a huge advantage right now. Killian thinks we’re busy mourning, _and_ he thinks we still believe there’s some terrorist far far away plotting all this. The Mandarin won’t see _us_ coming this time.” There was a dark glimmer in his eyes.

Steve grinned a little in spite of himself. “You really enjoy being back, huh?”

“ _So much_.”

Steve laughed good-naturally, leaning back and watching the clouds rushing past them. The sky was a dark blanket, glimmering in the occasional brilliance of the selective lights the Quinjet gave off. He hadn’t even realized it had started to rain. Either way, it didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered now was the way ahead of him. The one that irrevocably led him to Tony.

“I’m so relieved he’s okay,” Steve said quietly. “Don’t know what I’d have done—”

Coulson cleared his throat. “So, you and Stark…”

Steve looked up at him, waiting for what he was going to say next, but Coulson just took another long sip from his coffee.

“Not what you expected from Captain America, huh?” he offered.

Coulson nodded in agreement. “Really not,” he said without preamble, and, well, if that wasn’t awkward, Steve didn’t know what was. He cleared his throat, and there was tense silence between them for a few seconds, before Coulson gasped loudly. “Oh God, _no_ , not that, not because he’s a man… _No_ , I don’t care about that. At all. I just… never imagined you with Stark of all people.”

Steve chuckled lowly, and, yeah, okay, a little relieved. “To be honest, I didn’t either, but…” He knew his voice was probably becoming terribly sappy, but he just couldn’t help himself. “Tony’s a good guy. He’s… the best guy, really.”

Coulson nodded, and Steve saw his mouth quirking a bit. “I’m happy for you,” he said and a silent understanding passed between them. “He gave you his coordinates?”

Steve grabbed for his phone and looked down at the display. “Yeah, I can track him now. He’s at the town center.”

“Good,” Coulson said. “We’ll land nearby.” He walked over to give the pilot the new coordinates. On his way back, he leaned down, and grabbed for a silver briefcase. “Barton gave me one of Stark’s suitcase armors. Just in case. You should probably only use it in an emergency, though, seeing as we want Killian to keep believing Stark’s dead.” He gave Steve a card. “We rented a car for you. Get Stark, and stay under. Make sure no one sees him. At this point, only we know he’s alive.” Coulson smirked a little. “It would also help if Stark didn’t give any more speeches on national TV.”

Steve snorted. He looked down at the silver suitcase. It was Mark Five, one of the oldest ones. Tony would _hate_ that. “I’ll tell him you asked nicely. Maybe he’ll listen for a change.”

Coulson chuckled. “As soon as Killian arrives in Miami, we’ll make our move. We stay in contact, and I’ll give you a heads-up if anything comes up until then.”

Steve nodded. “So.” He cleared his throat. “You already saw the others? How did that go?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Well, it was kind of inevitable when I went to get Dr. Banner. And… I’m sure Agent Romanov wouldn’t have let me off that easily if I hadn’t been on my way to you.”

Steve chuckled. It was a relief to know that Natasha hadn’t known either. “She doesn’t forget, though.”

Coulson sighed, shaking his head, and something like pain flickered across his face. “No, that she doesn’t.” He turned to look out the window then. His hands were braced on the window frame, his back to Steve, the blinking lights from the Quinjet’s wings illuminating his form. Coulson stood there, watching his reflection in the window with the air of wariness like a man facing his own demon.

“Hey,” Steve called, and smiled up at Coulson. “I wanted to ask for a while now. Does SHIELD have any news on Thor?”

Coulson shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he said, and the answer was so calm and so oblivious that Steve almost wanted to yell at him. “The science department is working close with Dr. Foster, but we haven’t been able to make contact yet.”

Steve hummed. “It would’ve been good to have him here for this.”

Coulson nodded, and smiled. “I believe he will come back when it’s time.”

“Time?” Steve asked. “For him or for us?”

Coulson shrugged. He looked up at him, eyes level and clear as he told him, “Maybe both.”

The first snow started to fall once they’d crossed Oklahoma, and it was hard to keep the feelings at bay any longer. They sank further into the darkness. Shadows were all around, and only cold air swirled about. Nothing was visible. Nothing except for the moon’s light reflecting on the dark grey wings.

Everything had changed over the course of one day, and everything only began to slowly filter back in and there was nothing Steve could do but hope.


	5. All Roads Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, I was away this week. I hope this makes up for the wait (: Thanks to [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) for her wonderful over night beta-read :-*

**Tony**

 

A tall man stood in front of Tony, and he was soaked through to the bones. His blue eyes stood stark against his wet face, reminding Tony that the steady pelt of wet snow had obviously not come to an abrupt end since he’d broken down beside the bus stop.

He blinked at the man wearily, but his mind was too hazed. Far gone. Lost.

The man hazarded a slow step forward, hands coming up as if he was afraid to startle Tony. The noise in his head fell into a dull buzzing, and though he understood that there were words falling from the man’s lips, they failed to connect into any pattern he recognized. God, he was so confused—so disoriented. There was familiarity behind the eyes, but he was in too deep to really think about it. It felt like he had no energy left for anything other than breathing. No matter how hard he shattered every time he thought of New York, it didn’t get better—and after Malibu, it seemed there was simply nothing left in him. The portal was closing in and he couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating and he couldn’t do anything about—

“I’m so sorry,” a young voice echoed through the vast space. “I didn’t mean for him to freak out, I just asked about the wormhole, and when I said _aliens_ , he—”

Tony groaned, and pressed both hands to his ears, as the air around him grew thicker. Everything was pitch black… no stars, just void space, and the endless fall down, down, down…

“Tony.” The man crouched down in front of him. His voice was very steady, and very calm. It was a strange awareness, hearing that voice speak his name. It overwhelmed him with heartbreaking liberation. As though the love that was etched so deep in this single word filled him with clarity.

“Baby, it’s Steve. _Steve_. Come on, I know this is hard, but you’re stronger than that. I know you are. Come back to me.”

Hands were settling on both sides of his face, lifting his head upwards, to meet those blue eyes. A flash, then—the void faded in favor of something known. Something recognized. Suddenly his eyes were open, and he saw him. _Steve_.

He really was soaking wet, and his body periodically shook in reaction. His eyes, while a little swollen, were firmly locked onto Tony’s face. The blonde stubble on his cheeks was more prominent now, and there was a healing wound on his neck, along with other minor scrapes and bruises that littered his skin.

It didn’t make him any less gorgeous.

“Heya, Cap,” he said, and was terribly aware how hoarse his voice rasped. “’m sorry.” He reached for Steve awkwardly but his hand dropped in weakness and fatigue halfway along the way. In a swift movement, Steve grasped the hand in his, and stroked the skin of his palm. Then he curled Tony’s fingers and placed the knuckles against his lips.

Tony swallowed hard, ignoring the tears flooding his eyes. Steve was looking at him as though he had just arrived home. As though a long tunnel was finally coming to an end and he was there in the light. The relief that filled his gaze overturned Tony’s heart. With a shaking hand he pushed back some sopping strands from Steve’s forehead.

“Don’t be sorry…” Steve whispered soothingly. “Don’t ever be sorry for this.”

It was sensory overload. Steve’s scent was around him, as he pressed Tony’s body against his own, both of their breaths seeping through the wet cotton of their clothes.

A sob tore through Tony’s throat, and his body started to wrack in tremors that threatened to consume him. “I love you,” he whispered against Steve’s ear. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too,” Steve murmured, sending shivers across his body. He peppered kisses across Tony’s neck, while he was breathing words against his skin. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

His heart broke a little more every time. Steve shouldn’t thank him, it was the other way around. He felt nothing like a hero. He’d made it here, but he’d still lost. Steve had suffered so much. And he hadn’t been able to prevent that.

His lips brushed Steve’s cheek. “Thank you for coming for me.”

Steve’s arms tightened around him. “Always.”

There were no tears between them, just the comfort of silence. After a minute, though, he felt Steve snort against his neck.

“What?” Tony asked with a confused frown.

Steve pulled back and lifted Tony’s left arm in their field of vision. “Why exactly are you wearing a pink Dora the Explorer watch?”

Tony laughed against his neck, and cleared his throat. “It’s a limited edition, okay? Also, I’m excessively weirded out that you know Dora the Explorer but you still haven’t watched Star Wars with me. It’s… frankly, it’s a bit of a deal breaker.”

Steve smiled at him, amusement chasing away the pain. “That’s a shame, I was kinda getting used to having you around.”

“Well,” Tony said with what was probably an utterly sappy smile as he leaned back. “What can you do…”

Steve shrugged, nodded, and leaned in. “Yeah. Tough luck.”

“Oh God. You’re not gonna make out now, are you?” Harley said next to them and when Tony looked up, the boy was looking pointedly to the floor, both hands awkwardly buried in his red winter jacket.

Steve looked sideways, his expression turning somewhat bashful as though he had only just realized they weren’t exactly alone.

“That’s the boy I told you about,” Tony explained. “The junior mechanic. Harley, meet Steve. Steve, Harley.”

There was a light flush to Harley’s cheeks as he shook Steve’s hand. His eyes were wide and awestruck. “You’re Cap, right?”

Steve’s hand rose to clap Harley’s shoulder. Harley looked straight at him for the first time and Steve smiled, looking proud yet a bit sheepish, like he always did whenever someone got all star-struck on him. He nodded. “Sure am. It’s really nice to meet you, Harley. Thanks for helping the Avengers… and for taking care of Tony for a while.”

Tony huffed, shooting Steve a pointed look. Steve gave it right back to him.

The boy shrugged matter-of-factly. “He kinda bribed me.”

Steve snorted, giving a half-smile. “Of course he did.”

Tony threw both hands in the air and glared at Harley. “I _helped_ you. This was a quid-pro-quo deal!”

Steve rolled his eyes at him, before smiling up at Harley. “You did good today. The Avengers owe you. _I_ owe you.”

“That’s so cool.” Harley shook his head in disbelief, and stared back at Tony. “Are your other friends coming, too?”

Tony shrugged swiftly, looking up at Steve. “He has a bit of a crush on Widow.”

“I do _not_.”

Steve’s lips twitched. “No, not here,” he told the boy. “We’re meeting up later. To fight the bad guys.”

Tony nodded in acknowledgment. There was probably a plan behind that. “Yeah, good.”

Steve cleared his throat, before standing up and pulling Tony with him. He looked around then, taking in the various candles, pictures, letters and flowers on the ground—and then the four shadows painted on the brick wall. “This is where Davis died?”

“Yeah.”

“You found anything?”

Tony rubbed his hands up and down his arms, as he walked a few steps into the alley. “Not much. Like I said back home, it wasn’t a bomb. The heat signatures are way too high for that. There are no remains, no cables, no explosives, no nothing. This…” He pointed at the walls. “…wasn’t a bomb.”

Steve walked closer to the corner. The snow slowly let up a bit. Tony followed him. Resisting the urge to rub his temples at the headache coming on, he pointed out, “Davis didn’t build himself a bomb. I think he _was_ the bomb. I don’t know how, but it’s gotta be in some way related to the Mandarin. It’s…”

“Aldrich Killian.” Steve sighed, as he bent down to pick up one of the photographs, showing Davis in his dress uniform. “Aldrich Killian is the Mandarin.”

Shaking his head, utterly confused, Tony turned away from the shadows and looked back at Steve. “I…” He scrunched up his nose. “Yeh… _What?_ ”

Steve turned around and glanced warily at Harley. When he spoke up again, his voice was unmistakably quieter. “The Mandarin is a decoy. The guy we saw on television… that’s an actor. His name is Trevor Slattery. It’s Aldrich Killian who’s behind all this. He injected a few soldiers with a virus Maya Hansen created, and whenever it’s going haywire, this is the result.”

Tony swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth. Everything fell into place at once. “Maya… Extremis, right? God, I’ve been so stupid. So damn stupid. I _knew_ the symptoms, I’ve… we’ve talked about it, Maya and I. I should’ve…” Tony trailed off and looked down to Harley, and then back at the town. “We gotta tell Davis’ mom.”

Steve nodded. “And we will. After we got Killian. Right now we need to get underground, before someone recognizes you.”

“Yeah, alright,” Tony sighed and cast his eyes to the ground. Another stake-out then. Great. “Let me get the suit, I’ll fly us—”

Steve shook his head. “No, that’s too much attention,” he said and looked at Harley with a pensive expression. “Hey, Harley? Can you help us again? Is the Iron Man suit safe in your garage?” he asked.

That was all it took. Harley’s his eyes brightened with excitement. “Sure, yeah. No one comes in there anyway, and I’ll stay with it the whole time.”

“That’s great,” Steve told him and then glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Tony. “That alright with you?”

“He can take it apart for all I care.”

“Tony…” Steve said with an eye roll and pulled him into his arms once more. “That suit has saved you over and over again, and you still hold grudges?”

Tony snorted tiredly. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know it’s not the damn suit that caused this.” He waved a dismissive hand at himself.

Steve smiled idly and laid his forehead against Tony’s. “Can we please talk about this when everything’s done? You need to get help, sweetheart.”

Well, wasn’t that something to look forward to. Of course, he knew Steve was right. He’d carried this with him too far and too long, and it was probably time to face the ugly truth that the panic attacks wouldn’t just miraculously go away on their own.

He felt the familiar wave of uneasy guilt and shame rush through him, as he looked over at Steve. It wasn’t fair to him. He knew Steve didn’t blame him for not doing anything about the PTSD, and he knew that—for whatever reason—Steve would stick around no matter what. But seeing the look in his eyes, the expression of something almost pleading and uncertain, he realized he didn’t want him to worry any longer. “I’ll ask Bruce if he—”

Steve snorted. “Bruce is _not_ that kind of doctor, Tony. A _real_ doctor, someone you don’t know, preferably.”

Tony reached over, and laid a hand on Steve’s chest that was half a playful light shove and half a caress. “Fine. A real doctor then.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, smiling while trying to not look too pleased with himself. His hand slipped down to take Tony’s, fingers squeezing gently. Tony leaned up to finally kiss him, grateful that despite everything that had happened, this still felt utterly familiar. He _knew_ Steve, the scent of his skin, the slight curve of his nose, and the little birthmark next to it. He lifted a hand to trace the already fading jagged scars on his cheek.

Harley gagged. “Seriously. _Get a room_.”

Tony leaned back and scowled down at the kid. “We’re on that, squirt.” He pulled off the pink watch and gave it back to the boy. “Thank you—for the sandwich,” he said with a wry grin. “When I come back to get the suit, we’ll see what we can do about that bazooka of yours. Deal?”

Harley nodded eagerly. “Deal.”

The brush of Steve’s fingers against his hand startled Tony more than he liked to admit. The echoes of the panic attack—the echoes of _everything_ —were still too real. “Off to Miami?” Steve asked him, and his blue eyes looked still a bit troubled but his jaw was set with determination.

Tony turned to him and nodded once. “Lead the way, Cap.”

As they walked to the car, Steve slipped his arm around Tony’s waist, and leaned in a little closer to him. Tony released a content sigh—and after so much hurt, he figured he was entitled to do so. His hand immediately sought Steve’s, his body relaxing only when their fingers curled around together.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Even a couple of energy drinks didn’t keep him from dropping. Steve insisted that he should just lie down on the back seat, but Tony wouldn’t let Steve drive the whole way to Florida on his own, and that was that. The back seat was too small for him to stretch out on, anyway, so instead, he curled up in the front, using Steve’s balled up leather jacket for a pillow.

From time to time, Steve would reach over and brush the hair out of his face. In the moonlight, his fingers gleamed almost white, as they lightly traced a pattern along the neckline of the lumberjack shirt Tony had borrowed from Harley’s long-lost father. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips, and Steve rested his hand on his shoulder, softly kneading the muscles there.

“I brought a change of clothes, if you want to get out of these. It’s in the bag.” Steve pointed over his shoulder to the backseat.

Tony stirred beneath his hand. He turned around and, with a little more effort than he’d liked to admit, leaned over the back of the seat and pulled at the black knapsack. He turned back around and slumped down in the seat. Then he started to rummage through the things in there: Tank tops, pants, sweatshirts, toothbrushes, shampoo, underwear, extra socks, a flashlight, and a few dry food bars. “My, my,” Tony said with a fair amount of amusement, as he opened a granola bar and took a huge bite. “Aren’t you a regular boy scout?”

Steve flashed him a grin and ducked his head, doing that bashful thing he did that was so damn adorable, all the more so because it was sincere. “That was actually Pepper,” he said, as he took the power bar Tony offered him and ate the last bites. “But I brought one of your tablets. Must be in there somewhere.”

“Oh fuck, gimme,” Tony said, and pushed some of the clothes aside, before he got hold on the tablet. “ _Yes._ I love you.”

Steve put both hands on the wheel, and sighed exaggeratedly. “That’s it. We’re old news. I only ever get endearments whenever I bring you tech.”

Tony grinned sardonically. “That and blowies, babe.” He clapped his hands. “Alright. First things first. I need to get JARVIS back online.”

“You can do that from here?”

Tony only arched an eyebrow… _because of reasons_.

“I… yeah okay. I just thought you’d need to work on his processor cores or something.”

“Did you just say processor cores? Jesus, Steve, you’re so hot when you’re talking modern tech.”

Steve grinned, shaking his head. He tried and failed to fight down the blush, which yeah. God, he couldn’t wait for this to be over so they could curl around each other on the next possible horizontal surface.

“Come on,” Tony said in a husky voice. “Say it again. Say ‘pe-ta-flops’. And say it _slowly_.”

The blush deepened. Steve rolled his eyes. “Stop it.”

“You’re ridiculously adorable when you’re all embarrassed, you know that?” After a moment of silence, Tony looked back out at the passing landscape. “You know we’re not old news, right?”

Steve looked at him, his eyes asking him to elaborate.

“I just mean… I love you more every single day. We’re not old news. I may have gotten used to you being there with me, but that’s good. For me. I never had something like this with anyone. And it doesn’t mean I love you less. That’s completely ridiculous. Every time I look at you I feel breathless and I will not ever not be amazed that you chose me.”

Steve tightened his grip on Tony’s hand, and glanced at him for a moment. “You chose _me_ , Tony. Not the other way around. You’re everything to me.”

Tony smiled, and felt his heart shudder in happiness, and _God_ , when had he become that much of a sap? It didn’t matter, though, not when Steve looked at him like he’d kissed the sun, and… whatever. He was in love, and that was… wonderful. Perfect. “And you to me,” he admitted quietly and pressed a little kiss against Steve’s palm, before he extracted his fingers to start to work on the tablet.

“Everyone’s gonna be so glad to see you,” Steve said after a few minutes, absently stroking loose strands of hair from Tony’s face.

A long, forced sigh slithered through Tony’s lips and he offered a weak nod of similar regard. “It will be nice to see them, too,” he answered.

Steve flashed him a knowing glance and reached over to squeeze his knee with intimate reassurance. “This isn’t just your team, you know? You are their _friend_ , Tony. You are part of their family. We’re all in this together.”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, and meant it. “Yeah, I know.”

The look of concern failed to dissipate from Steve’s eyes, but he nodded all the same, turning his attention back to the road.

They drove like that for a few hours, and it was… nice, just to be for once. In-between Avengers missions, Steve being in DC and Tony’s work for SI, they didn’t actually get a lot of chances to simply spend time with each other. They made the most of it when they could, either doing movie nights with the team, going out to dinner, fly away somewhere with the suit, or, well… _okay_ , they did spend a lot of time in bed, whenever they got the hours to spare. And, of course, that was great—Tony had never thought Steve would be so enthusiastic about sex, and he was immensely happy to be proven wrong—but it was rare that they simply had time to just be in each other’s presence.

So, yeah, it was nice. Steve brought him up to date about AIM, Maya’s work on Extremis, and the fuck-up that was Aldrich Killian. They also bantered about the terrible Christmas carols the radio stations decided to rain down on them in this merry time of the year, and sang along to a few, while laughing at each other the whole time. Or they were just… content in silence, while the dark landscape flew past them.

When they were well past Alabama, Steve cracked and told him about Phil, and… that was a bummer.

Not that the guy was alive, that was good, of course, wonderful, brilliant—but Fury had once more not deemed it necessary to tell them the truth, and he’d have to think about that, _deeply_ , when he’d have a clear head about it.

Then, there was a beeping noise from the tablet in his hands. Tony made a little frustrated groan, as he looked down on the display.

Steve glanced over at him. “What is it?”

Tony tipped on the video pop up. “Uh, it’s an uplink from Natasha, and… oh.”

Well. That wasn’t good, but honestly, it had only been a matter of time until the Mandarin, or—Aldrich Killian—sent the President a new message.

“What?” Steve asked and leaned over. “Oh.”

At first, it was only a close-up of Trevor Slattery’s face, but as the picture moved further away, it revealed the body of a man, lying to his feet, and sobbing on the floor. Also, there was a gun pressed to his temple.

Tony swallowed, and looked at the emotionless, hard mask of the Mandarin. “You sure he’s an actor?”

Steve sighed and Tony could see the veins in his arms ticking. “Yeah,” he nodded, but it was a jerky motion.

A moment later, the sound of a single shot rang out loudly through the car.

Tony let the tablet sink to his knees, and squeezed his eyes shut. “That an act, too?”

Steve was very still. “I have no idea.”

A few beats went by in silence as they collected themselves. Steve held onto the stirring wheel for stability, his knuckles white and his bones jittering with tension.

The video feed was followed by a live statement of President Ellis. He was telling the American people that he’d tried to save the guy—that he’d done what the Mandarin had asked of him, but it was no use. It hadn’t been his choice from the beginning, and Tony even believed him. He saw the pure shock in the President’s eyes, the disbelief, the horror, and felt a stab of sympathy.

Then Ellis repeated what he’d told the Mandarin a dozen of times by now: How America wouldn’t negotiate with terrorists, how she would be strong through this, and how Iron Patriot was going to—

Wait a second.

“Fun fact I just remembered,” Tony said. “AIM… is actually the company who did the big redesign slash rebrand on War Machine.”

Steve looked up at him sharply. “Are you serious?”

Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t approve. As it was, Ellis gave a shit about my opinion.”

“Call him,” Steve said, and pulled out his phone with one hand. He probably tried to not make it sound like an order, not that Tony really cared at the moment.

“Ellis?”

“ _Tony_.”

“Yeah, yeah. On it.” Tony nodded, and pushed a few buttons on the phone, as Steve changed lanes and pulled up alongside an open-air Jeep.

A second later, Rhodey’s voice sounded through the car. “He-llo?”

“Rhodes, love of my life…”

Steve arched an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tony said with a grin. “He loved me when I was just a gangly fourteen-year-old with no friends and too much raging hormones. He’ll always be special.”

“Tony? What the Hell? Malibu. Your _house_ —”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Yeah, man, I know. Guess we’ll fully move to New York now. Hey, what are you up to?”

There was a huff. “A little knock-and-talk, making friends in Pakistan. What are _you_ doing?”

“Ah, you know. Little romantic get-away with my guy. Speaking of which, I found out the guy who made your new armor is actually the guy who employs the Mandarin, who, fun fact, isn’t a terrorist-guy but an actor-guy.”

There was a pregnant pause. “I—what?”

“Look, I’ll explain later, yeah? Rhodey, I need your NSC login.”

“It’s the same as it’s always been, _WarMachine68_.”

“And password, please.”

“Well, look, I gotta change it every time you hack it, Tony.”

Tony rolled his eyes skyward. “It’s not the ‘80s, nobody says ‘hack’ anymore. Give me your login.”

There was an audible sigh. “WARMACHINEROX, with an ‘X,’ all caps.” Tony started to snicker, and bursting into a full-blown laughter after another second.

“Tony,” Steve said, with an amused glance, as he raised his brows at him in question.

“Rhodes,” Tony said, still snickering. He pulled out a cable from the glove compartment and inserted it into the sound box of the dashboard. Now on speakers, Rhodey sighed loudly. “Repeat that buddy—for Steve.”

“You _do_ know the definition of a password, Tony, right?”

“Are you saying you don’t trust Captain America with _America_ ’s security?”

“I…” Rhodey hesitated.

“Don’t humor him,” Steve advised with a smile.

“Steve,” Rhodey said, and he sounded so relieved, Tony should probably feel offended. “Good to hear your voice, man. Can you please make sure Tony doesn’t order any strippers on my National Security account?”

Steve gave Tony a long pointed look. “Sure will.”

“You’d both die of boredom without me, and you know it.”

“I’m fine with your usual bullshit, Tones, if you would just kindly stop dying for a few years, yeah?”

Steve gave him a pointed look, which clearly could be translated into _That’s what I keep saying_.

“I’ll give it a shot.”

“ _Thank you_.”

“Stay safe, honeybunch.”

In less than a minute, Tony was downloading all of AIM’s recent reports. “Alright, got the data, now I only need to…” There was another beeping noise, and Tony clapped his hands. “Aaand he’s back online,” he said before pressing a few more buttons on his tablet, to reconnect JARVIS to Avengers Tower, SHIELD and his suits. “Welcome back, buddy. How are we?”

“It’s totally fine, sir. I seem to do quite well for a stretch and then at the end of the sentence I say the wrong cranberry.”

Tony blinked, and when he looked sideways, Steve was biting his lip so hard it turned an interesting shade of red.

“Suck it,” Tony warned.

Steve grinned. “Maybe later.” And then, louder, “It’s good to hear you again, JARVIS.”

“It certainly is, Captain.”

“J, transfer all the data on AIM to SHIELD, or… yeah, no, scratch that, put it on our private servers. Make sure Romanov gets a notice.”

“Very well, sir.”

Half a minute later, Steve’s phone rang. Tony rolled his eyes and put her on speaker.

“You know I installed a chat function on our private servers, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha said.

“You’re never gonna use it, are you?”

“Not until you change my nickname.”

Tony pursed his lips. Maneater@starkindustries.org was perfectly fitting.

“Any news on Killian?” Steve asked her.

“No. Maya Hansen said he was still around promoting the Extremis soldiers, and we believe she’s telling the truth.” _For now_ , she didn’t say, and she didn’t have to. “We already have people on site. Just get close to the area and rest for a while. We’ll let you know before we make our move.”

“You want us to rest,” Tony said, disbelievingly. “ _Now_.”

“We won’t do anything before he arrives, Stark, and it’s important that you’re staying low-key until then. Besides, when was the last time you slept?”

Tony rolled his eyes, because What. The. Actual. Fuck. “Are you all teaming up on me now or what?”

“Sixty-two point three hours ago, Miss Romanov,” JARVIS supplied.

Tony gaped at the tablet in his hands. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“I am sorry, sir,” came the somewhat guilty answer. “After your dispute with Captain Rogers, you ordered me to always truthfully verify your sleeping schedule to him if I am asked wantonly.”

Steve snickered as he looked back at the road, which Tony rewarded with a hard poke in his side. “It wasn’t _Steve_ who asked you—directly. Last time I checked, Steve didn’t have boobs. Jesus, get it together.”

“It’s fine, Nat,” Steve said with another light snicker, and the open joy in his face almost made up for all the shit Tony had to deal with from these guys. “We’ll rest for a while. Call us on the emergency line if there’s an opening.”

“Will do,” Natasha said. “Oh and Stark?”

“Mm?”

“Glad you didn’t die.”

With that, there was a click, and the line went dead.

Steve turned to Tony, and gave him one of his private little smiles, and that always got to Tony more than he’d liked to admit. Those moments when Steve seemed like just being with him overwhelmed him. “Motel?”

Tony looked around. “No,” he said with a glance to the map on the tablet. “I have a safe house in Port St. Lucie. It’s uh…” He checked their status. “Three hours from here.”

“Good,” Steve said, as a hand moved back up to rest at Tony’s neck. “Tony…”

Tony pulled at the hand and brought Steve’s palm to his lips. He closed his eyes and breathed him in. He smelled so good. At that moment, Tony could almost believe that there was a bubble around them, and nothing outside of it mattered.

Maybe a little rest wasn’t a bad idea after all. “How fast can you drive?” he asked, and bit lightly at Steve’s thumb.

There was a little hitch in Steve’s breath. His hand wandered up to tangle in Tony’s hair, and then down to stroke his face. After a few seconds, he broke off and pressed his head against the headrest with a deep sigh. “Not fast enough.”

Tony smiled as he saw Steve squirming in his seat, obviously struggling with the situation as much as Tony.

Without another word, Steve pushed down on the gas pedal. Tony didn’t know how many miles they’d gone, with them both staring straight ahead, matching faces of impatience, but by the time they crossed the state line Tony almost couldn’t take it anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, it was almost two a.m. when they arrived at the safe house.

Tony hadn’t been here in over four years, but he remembered the interior well enough. It wasn’t exactly a huge place, nothing like Malibu or the penthouse in New York, but well stocked with food, drinks and everything else you could possible need while hiding. Two bedrooms, long couches in the living room, a huge television on the wall, and a row of book cases. He had never bothered to let someone decorate the place—there were no paintings or plants, only windows made of milk glass, and soundproofed, reinforced walls.

And those were probably a good thing, seeing as how Tony was currently firmly propped against one, his hands curled in Steve’s hair. Steve fumbled hastily with the key lock that remained hidden behind Tony’s body. His mouth was ravaging his neck, rumbling little groans between his lips, and with his denim-clad erection grinding into him, Tony thought he would go insane if he didn’t have Steve inside him. Right. Fucking. Now.

Which required opening the damned security lock he’d installed on the damned front door.

Tony pulled away breathlessly. “Steve…”

“Trying.”

“Try _harder_.”

Steve rattled with the handle a moment longer. He grunted in frustration, and a second later, there was a loud crack.

“Did you just—”

Instead of an answer, Steve kicked the door open, nearly sending them both to the ground. Not that they would have minded—or _noticed_. Blindly, Tony flung the door closed, and the next thing he knew, Steve shoved him against the nearest wall. And— _okay_ … He opened his mouth to say something, but Steve promptly filled it with his tongue.

His kiss was fervent, desperate, and passion-filled, and Tony’s only answer was a deep unashamed groan. His body communicated plenty, though, as he pressed against Steve. With the way he felt against him, the firm rub of his desire against his own, logic had no merit. In seconds, he had torn Tony’s jacket from his body, pulling away to give himself the same treatment.

Tony tried to wrap his arms around Steve’s middle, but he pushed them away. His hands glided up Tony’s chest and underneath his sweater to slide it off him, too. As it pooled on the floor, Steve grabbed him around the waist, and spun them both around. Tony only whimpered and clutched his side.

They didn’t make it far. Steve still gripped him by the arms, and pinned him to the next wall with the full length of his body. He crushed his lips to Tony’s in a hard, urgent kiss, the force of it stealing Tony’s breath and threatening to buckle his knees. Tony’s hands slipped from where they had flattened on Steve’s chest to wrap around his neck, and Steve groaned in approval. The vibrations rattled through his chest and Tony’s fingers dug more firmly into his shoulders. Steve’s hands flew over his—threading through Tony’s hair, running over his arms, and slipping beneath his shirt to fondle his nipples. Tony arched into the touch, moaning into Steve’s mouth as he thrust his erection against him in response.

Their kiss became frantic, and Steve insistently thrust against him, hand snaking its way under Tony’s waistband. He almost _growled_ , and it left Tony melting into a big puddle of arousal unlike anything he’d ever experienced in the past. Steve’s passion was raw, and addictive, and he would never get enough of it.

Eventually, Steve pulled back to give him a chance to breathe, and _God_. He loved how much Steve loved this, how they were completely in sync with this, and he really wished they had hours, days like they used to—but now, they had to make haste. There was a mission on the horizon, threats kept flooding their life, and the risk of being called away was at an all-time high.

Steve stroked Tony’s cheek with a thumb, and looked at him with open eyes that hid absolutely nothing. “Need you,” Steve said, and bit Tony’s lower lip hard to show he meant business. “So much.”

He felt Steve’s cock hard against his stomach, and lifted his arms in silent agreement. Steve didn’t waste a second, and instantly gripped for his shirt and all but ripped it off him. His pants followed soon after, and the second he had Tony naked in front of him, Steve hooked both thumbs in his own jeans and dropped them, together with his shirt, on top of Tony’s clothes. His gaze lowered, and the lust on his face so palpable, and so intense, that Tony felt himself rooted to the spot.

When they were both finally naked, Steve looked into Tony’s eyes with a meaningful expression before he grabbed his hips and turned him around. It was such a fast, unexpected movement, that Tony gasped loudly, and had to brace himself against the wall to get his bearings back. Steve’s lips fluttered against his ear. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he whispered, and _holy shit_ , Tony hadn’t seen that one coming. Steve wasn’t exactly shy in the bedroom, but he’d certainly never been so blunt about it.

“Are you now,” he said, teasing, a sound which immediately turned into another gasp as Steve brushed a hand over his upper back to bend him down. Then he kissed the top of his spine, and the sweetness of that gesture clashed so badly with the rest of Steve’s treatment, that Tony had to bark a breathless laugh.

In the minutes that followed, Steve’s hands were _everywhere_. It felt like he was committing every inch of him to memory—as though Tony could just vanish any second. His fingers stroked hard over his ass, kneading a firm massage as his thumbs teased his hole. Then his mouth was back on him, kissing a trail down his back. The arm around Tony’s waist kept him steady, but he also needed to put his hands on the wall to brace himself. When Steve licked the small of his back, and slowly trailed the tip of his tongue downwards, Tony arched and shuddered with surprise, instinctively pressing backwards against him.

Steve breathed against his skin. “You like that, huh?” Tony could almost hear the smug grin in his voice.

He nodded without turning back. “Yeah…”

Steve leaned back to look at him, and brought both hands down on Tony’s ass. “You want me to take you. You like it when I don’t ask questions. When I do whatever I want with you…” He cupped each globe and gave them a firm squeeze.

Oh. God. How exactly had this happened? How was it possible that now of all times, Steve had apparently decided to try out dirty talk for the first time? And Tony hadn’t been prepared for that. Not. At. All.

“You want me to take control,” he continued with an almost dark voice. He bent down, and sucked at the skin right above the crack of Tony’s ass, as one of his hands roamed lower, acquainting itself with Tony’s belly, and still lower, reaching down to slowly rub his length.

Tony let go of the wall and gripped Steve’s forearms. He felt them flex as his hands did their magic. “Yes,” he moaned softly, squeezing his arms. “Oh fuck, stroke me.”

Steve didn’t say anything. One hand pinched Tony’s left nipple hard as the other hand worked up a steady rhythm on his dick. With a content sigh, Tony let his head fall down between his shoulder blades and just surrendered to the sensation.

If there was a place he wanted to be for the rest of his life, it was here.

When there was no movement for a couple of seconds, Tony forced his head to look up at Steve. He was leaning backwards, without letting go of Tony’s dick. He was fumbling with his discarded jeans, and Tony had to laugh at the little relieved breath Steve let out as he pulled the bottle of lube from his back pocket.

“Boy scout,” Tony teased, and then nearly lost his footing, as Steve thrust a finger inside him without so much as a warning. “Oh _shit_ ,” Tony groaned out, both hands once more hitting the wall to steady himself.

He heard Steve laugh, all swagger, the bastard. When he looked back at him, he saw his tongue poking against his teeth. “Just like that,” Steve murmured, and his eyes were firmly trained on Tony’s ass, as he watched his finger disappear inside him over and over again. “You love this so much. I know you do. And you’ll just take what I give you…”

Tony couldn’t help but whimper in agreement as Steve brought his free hand to his mouth. He opened up, and sucked two fingers in his mouth, long and deep, his tongue keeping pace with the finger moving inside him.

Steve gasped at the sight. “You’re so eager,” he murmured. “Always so eager and ready. All for me.”

Tony nodded with a groan, as a second finger entered him. “Only for you,” he breathed.

Steve’s pubic bones scraped against Tony’s ass as his erection bumped his entrance. “You have no idea how much I thought about this… How much I missed you. How bad I wanted to have you,” he said with a grunt. His fingers never stopped their movement as his other hand left Tony’s mouth. And then he took Tony’s hand and guided it to his cock. “Feel that? Feel how hard I am for you?”

Tony sucked air in through his teeth as he gripped the shaft. Hard was putting it mildly—and he couldn’t wait to have all of that inside of him. He pumped Steve’s cock a few times, matching the rhythm of his fingers, then he slid his hand down to squeeze his balls.

Steve groaned, resting his head against his spine. “Fuck, Tony…”

“Getting there, soldier,” Tony answered with a chuckle.

Steve groaned against his back. “Think you can take me like this?” He pushed the two fingers into him hard, scissoring as he drew them out again.

Well, he’d definitely feel it. It’d been a while, but damn if that wasn’t exactly what he needed right now. He wanted a reminder of this, a proof that they could still have this. That Steve wasn’t buried under the remains of his home, but _right here_ , with him.

“Think you’re ready?” Steve asked with a strained voice, and pulled his fingers out of him with an obscene wet sound.

_God._ Ready for him was an understatement. He’d needed Steve inside him every second of the last thirty-something days, and he could tell from the look on Steve’s face that he’d needed to be there just as badly.

Steve’s hands cupped his ass to lift him up a little. Tony pulled his face back to watch him as Steve finally slid into him with a slow smooth stroke.

Even now, after all this times they’d been together like this, Steve wore the same look of amazement and gratitude that had been there the first time around. But now, there was something else too. The lightheartedness was gone, replaced by a certainty that they could be losing this any second, and a determination to make every second count. When he was all the way in him, Steve grasped Tony’s hip in both hands and looked intently into his eyes.

“Hold onto the wall.”

Tony drew in a shaky breath, and nodded. “Jesus, Steve…”

Not a second later, Steve pulled out and slammed home. Playtime was clearly over. His thrusts were fast, hard, and he squeezed Tony’s ass in a firm grip that would surely result in a few very colorful marks on his skin. Tony had never been with Steve like this before. They’d had adrenaline-fueled, post-mission sex before, sure, but not with this desperation guiding every single one of Steve’s movements.

Whimpers and moans clawed at Tony’s throat. Steve’s thrusts rocked him against the wall nearly to the point of pain. And then he realized what Steve was doing. Knew why he needed it like this. This was real. Steve needed this to be real. And he was pushing into Tony with a force that couldn’t be dreamt.

Tony closed his eyes, only half-registering the rhythmical mewls tearing out of his lips. He constricted his muscles around Steve’s cock, squeezing him tightly.

Steve groaned. “Oh my God.”

“I’m here,” Tony whimpered. “We’re both here.”

Steve nodded desperately against his back, and then he surged forward, drawing Tony into a fiery kiss that spoke for everything he could not. Steve was with him. His lips were against him, until Steve pulled away to sob into the crook of his neck.

It didn’t take long, but then, it was pretty obvious that Steve hadn’t intended for this to drag out. His thrusts were aiming just right, a steady, firm movement, and after a couple of strokes he started jerking Tony off again in time with those thrusts. And as the orgasm took him, it was all Tony could do to cling to the wall with both arms. It was a sensation unlike any other, and in the end, he only marveled at the fact that he could feel so complete, when the earth around him threatened to shatter any moment.

He trembled hard around Steve’s cock, and his name tumbled from his lips in a hoarse scream. Steve muffled a groan into his shoulders, but kept moving otherwise. The room around Tony was alight with color. His ears were ringing, and he only vaguely felt Steve’s teeth tugging at his ear, as he kept pushing into his ass.

It took a few minutes for light to finally pierce the fog in Tony’s mind. He still felt Steve’s cock within him, and tried hard to repress the shiver the over-sensitivity sent through his limbs. Tony threw his head back, choking an overwhelmed sob as Steve thrust into his body twice before he pulled out, and took a step back.

“Steve? What…” Tony gasped, because Steve clearly hadn’t finished yet and—

Before he could spare Steve’s erection so much as another thought, he was turned around and only had a second warning, before Steve’s tongue shallowly pushed between his open lips.

There was no longer any thought, just sensation as he dove into the kiss. Tony’s hand snaked around Steve’s neck to pull him closer. He moaned into his mouth as Steve embraced his waist with both arms. A second later, they were tumbling on the couch and Steve hauled him on his lap with an almost feral gaze.

Tony needed to be closer; he was _starved_ for Steve, and wanted to keep touching him, but Steve clearly had a different idea. He held his hip in both hands and forced him to be very still. Tony’s whole body vibrated with the hum of desire, a slow, slick burn all the way to his toes.

And when Steve spoke again, his voice was wrangled. “You’ll take it for me, right?”

Tony’s eyes flashed open at that, and he nodded before Steve navigated him down on his cock once more. Mutual groans sounding through the air that was already heavy with their combined scents. In this position, Steve’s erection stabbed even deeper into his body and prompted a long hiss through his teeth. Tony threw his head back with a whimper, as Steve began to move him in earnest. His hands found purchase at Steve’s abdomen, steadying as he was ridden into a slow gallop. Steve watched him through hooded eyes. His fingers dug into Tony’s hips as he bucked up hard.

It only took a few minutes, before Steve’s beautiful face was contorted in ecstasy. His head had fallen against the armrest, and his lips were swollen from biting, as he drove his hips forward madly.

Tony had never loved him more than in this moment.

He combed his fingers through Steve’s hair as his other hand sneaked behind himself. He found Steve’s balls and palmed them. Steve’s surprised gasp clawed at the room around them, and a second later, he was coming. His hands flew to Tony’s thighs with a grunt, propelling himself deep inside as he filled him with his release.

Years later, Tony collapsed heavily onto Steve’s chest, harsh pants filling the air. He felt his gasps ringing alongside Steve’s, while their hearts thundered against one another. A hand came up to brush a few strands of sweat-laced hair off his forehead. Then, Steve laid both arms around him and held him firmly to his chest. Their mouths were close, their breaths intermingled. Still locked together in intimacy. They were entangled around each other, and he really wished they could just stay like that, here, right now.

After a few minutes, though, the spell broke as Steve opened his eyes and tossed him a meaningful smirk while he pressed a little kiss to Tony’s nose. “Thank you,” he said pointedly, and… just… oh God, that was it.

Seriously it.

For a second Tony thought he would be able to hold on to some grain of control, and the next he completely lost it. A first burst of laughter bubbled off his lips, manic and shrill, followed by many more. He had to clutch at his stomach as it started to ache. He laughed until his throat hurt, until tears stung his eyes and his sides whined for relief.

Underneath him, Steve had collapsed against the couch, his chest rumbling against Tony’s, as he laughed with him. After their laughter subsided, he slumped against Steve, and for a small precious moment, he was perfectly happy.

“You’re such a troll, Rogers,” Tony snorted, and laid a hand on Steve’s cheeks, wiping off the tears there. “You’re very welcome.”


	6. Turning Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) did a wonderful beta-read on this. Thank you <3

**Steve**

 

A light movement brushed Steve’s toes, which stuck out from the hopelessly tangled mess of bed sheets. Sleep only ebbed away slowly, ushering Steve softly into consciousness. When his eyes drifted open, it took a short bleary-eyed moment to remember where he was, but memory caught up easily, and he felt cozy and content despite the worries still lingering in his mind.

Next to him, Tony was sitting on the bed, with the tablet on his knees and a thin white blanket lightly tucked around his middle. He was very quiet, his breathing in perfect rhythm with Steve’s. The mimicked breaths were punctuated here and there by a little sigh or a mumbled word, while he worked on the little computer. He looked wonderfully ravaged, hair sticking out on all ends, goatee still in its usual form but fraying at the edges. The hickeys Steve had left on his skin were on full display, and his lips still looked positively wrecked.

Steve cast a glance at the nightstand, and it wasn’t even six o’clock yet. He wasn’t too surprised, though. Once Tony had gotten used to a less-sleep-more-work schedule, it always took a few days before he’d sleep normally again. For a few minutes, Steve remained still and was content to simply watch Tony work, and to listen to the low hum of the arc reactor. He was hyperaware of the potential danger hanging above their heads, yet completely lacking the desire to do anything more complicated than blinking and taking the occasional breath.

Little dust motes danced in the light of the arc reactor, and his mind felt wonderfully numb, even though the real world was right in front of him, waiting for him to pull out of this haze. If Steve had choice, he would stay here forever. Just lying around, watching the flickers of brilliant thoughts moving across Tony’s face, would be enough.

He closed his eyes, and a little tremor jolted through him as images of last night whirled past his mind’s eye. Last night had been phenomenal, and yet… God, the things he’d said to Tony. The things he’d _done_ … He’d always known he had a bit of a possessive streak when it came to Tony, and it was probably normal to have some kind of meltdown after seeing your loved one tumble to his potential death, but _Christ_ , the things he’d…

Next to him, Tony snorted. “I know you’re awake, darling. You’re blushing.”

Steve buried his face into the pillow, willing the red away. “’m not,” he mumbled.

Tony laughed and put the tablet aside. A strong arm tightened around Steve’s waist, hauling him towards the center of the bed.

“No need to… Hhh… be ashamed,” Tony murmured—the effect of his bedroom voice completely ruined by the yawn in the middle.

“I’m not _ashamed_ , I’m—”

Unceremoniously, Tony bent over him, and ran his tongue over Steve’s neck until all thoughts fell away. The rest of his answer came out in a rush of nonsensical murmurs that only made Tony press a muffled laugh into the crook of his neck.

“I loved it. Every. Part. Of. It,” he whispered straight into Steve’s ear. Then, he pushed Steve onto his back beneath him, gazing down at him with eyes that were almost black in the artificial blue light of the arc reactor.

Steve felt a familiar hardness pressing into his thigh, and a smile rose to his lips. “I feel that.”

“Mmm,” Tony hummed, letting his legs fall open so he could settle on top of Steve’s crotch. He leaned to the side and picked up the lube. Then, he smeared two fingers and sat up a bit, before his hand vanished behind his back.

“Aren’t you sore?” Steve asked quietly, as he watched Tony gasp above him.

“Barely,” came Tony’s answer. “Still open, though. You can slide right in.”

“God, Tony,” Steve moaned as a slicked hand stroked him a few times. Tony leaned over him, bracing himself with one hand, while the other brought his cock in position and—

They both gasped in unison as he pushed down in a single smooth movement. The feeling of connection overwhelmed him the instant Steve was fully sheathed inside him. Tony always surrounded him so perfectly, bound them both together, and nothing could pull them apart now.

“Good morning,” Tony said with a breathless laugh, brushing a finger over Steve’s cheeks, hips moving with slow, almost lazy thrusts.

Steve let out a quiet moan. “Good,” he said, “is clearly an understatement.”

“True.” Tony moved upwards, until only the tip of Steve’s cock was in him. With a smile he bent down and gave Steve a little kiss. “By the way,” he said, nipping at his nose with blunt teeth and trailing his tongue across Steve’s three-day stubble. “Loved that caveman streak on you. Totally fits your new hairstyle.”

“Would you—” he said, gasping as Tony very slowly edged himself down on him in one slow, wondrous slide. “Would you stop it.”

Tony chuckled, sliding the rest of the way down and stopping there. “Well… if you insist.”

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Steve groaned irritably. He tried to buck his hips upwards, but Tony had expected the move and pressed him hard into the mattress. “You know damn well I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No?”

Steve huffed and dug his fingers into Tony’s hips. “ _No._ ”

“So you’re saying… I shouldn’t stop?” The tone of his voice sounded innocent enough, but the quirk of his eyebrow, and the tongue-in-teeth grin certainly was not.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Steve said, and rammed his hips upwards. He watched Tony’s eyes blink shut and the smug grin fade away in favor of a guttural groan.

“Got it,” he breathed with a shaky nod. “Not stopping.” He withdrew slowly and made them both moan in response.

Steve relaxed his grip on Tony’s hips, and instead started to run his fingertips down his thighs. “God, that’s good.”

Tony’s eyes opened, the grin returned, and the lazy thrusts from before gradually gave way to deep, rolling ones that instantly made Steve’s breath quicken. Christ, he felt so good. By now, they knew exactly what the other needed, and how to drag it out until one of them couldn’t take it anymore. And every time his cock dipped inside Tony, his muscles clamped around him perfectly.

“Knew you’d eventually come to terms with my evaluation,” Tony said breathily.

“If you’d stop fooling around, you wouldn’t be able to say words like _evaluation_ ,” Steve commented, reaching up to fondle Tony’s nipples, and thinking now nice this was: Easy smiles, and banter and morning sex. They hadn’t done this in so long.

Tony smiled down at him, like he’d thought the exact same thing in the exact same moment, and stopped moving all over again. Instead, he began to wriggle on his cock. “Well. That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

“Know what _is_ a good thing?” Steve asked, and reached for Tony’s shoulders. Of course, that was precisely what Tony wanted, given the huge grin that lit up his face as Steve sat up and turned them around. He steadied Tony with a hand on his ass and pressed him back to the mattress without them ever losing their connection.

“Actual. Movement. During. Sex,” he said, and started to really piston into Tony with hard, sharp thrusts, underlining his words.

Tony wrapped one leg around his waist and moaned loudly. “Fuck, _fuck_ , Steve.”

Heavy breaths raced through Steve’s chest. “That is the general idea, yes.”

“God, I’ve corrupted you. In the best ways, I swear to God, I… Fuck there, _there_ , Steve, oh my _God_ …”

He loved the way Tony started rambling whenever he was really lost in sensation. His face was twisted in pleasure, fingers buried in the sheets, every single muscle strained. Steve hooked his hands under Tony’s shoulders, and the rocked his hips harder. Tony’s hole seized him in a stranglehold every time he slid home, and Jesus, he would never get enough of this. _Never_.

Tony gasped and arched. One hand let go of the bed sheet and gripped for his own cock, to fondle the tip between his fingers. His body was moving rhythmically underneath Steve’s, and he was so beautiful like this, a work of art, lost in sensation, and yet moving in such a controlled way. He wrestled Steve for his cock, mewling every time their hips crashed together.

“More,” Tony pleaded, and all swagger was completely gone now. He was needy and desperate and beautiful. His free hand surged upwards and tightened around the headrest. “Steve—God, fuck me. Just a little—”

“Come for me,” he grunted, smashing hard into Tony. His body was wrought tight, his cock a dark red and wet with pre-come, and for a few moments, there was nothing but the obscenely loud smacks of their bodies.

Steve only had a moment to appreciate the shocked flash of wide brown eyes before Tony lifted his head to seize his lips, consuming him, swallowing him whole. His hole clamped around Steve, his whole body trembling hard as a long groan tore through his lips. Steve was gone, too. He thrust into Tony two more times, before he came, and even then, he kept rocking, kept pumping, kept pushing into him, unwilling to ever let go.

Forever passed before he could bring his hips to stop moving, and even longer before he could move away from Tony. He blindly reached for the blanket that must’ve slipped to the floor at one point, and cleaned them both off. It took a while for them to come back to themselves. When Steve opened his eyes, he found his head pillowed at Tony’s chest. His still very much heaving chest. God, he felt spent, and when he looked up, Tony looked gloriously bedded to the point where Steve couldn’t hold back an amused laugh. Exhaustion filled Tony’s every breath, and his skin was a canvass of claw marks, his throat decorated with ardent love bites.

“What?” Tony said with a little smile, his eyes firmly closed.

“You’re a mess.”

“The good kind?”

“The best kind.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “I think I need a shower.”

Steve grinned and ran his nose along Tony’s torso, over his stomach, his chest, where he pressed a little kiss on the reactor, before he buried his face in Tony’s neck, and breathed in deep. “Positive,” he concluded and got a little smack on the head for it.

Tony finally met his eyes, and the room lightened. “You telling me I smell, Rogers?”

“I’m telling you, you… exude a certain _odor_ …”

Tony laughed and tackled him to the side. “You realize half of it is _your_ sweat, right?”

Steve smiled and kissed his shoulder, his right hand finding Tony’s where it rested against his abdomen, and he laced their fingers together. He felt Tony shiver, and the hand resting on Steve’s hip tightening possessively, drawing him closer.

“You fell,” Steve whispered after a moment. “I saw you fall.”

Tony smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Falling is what I do. But I’ll always do my best to come back to you afterwards.”

Steve nodded. And in that peaceful moment, he was hit with a sudden understanding. As much as he wished it weren’t true, one day, one of them wouldn’t make it back. It was foolish to think otherwise. Their lives were far too dangerous for that, and an ending of some sorts seemed inevitable. A lifetime of peace was certainly out of the question.

The knowledge was heartbreaking, of course, but Steve decided it didn’t matter. Even if this was their last day together, Tony would know he had been loved as deep and as fully as a human being was capable of.

Until then—until life decided to take this away from Steve, in the many moments between this one and the end of the road—Tony would know that this was everything he’d ever wanted. And the simple bliss of holding him would follow Steve long after he was gone from this world.

They had forever in some form. If not this one.

“Hey,” Tony said quietly, raising a hand to Steve’s forehead to smooth the skin there. “What’s the frown for?”

Steve drew in a long breath and met Tony’s eyes, shaking his head with a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just thinking how lucky I am,” he replied, kissing him.

“Liar,” Tony whispered.

Steve pursed his lips and placed a hand on Tony’s chest, gently pushing him onto his back and rolling with him, until he could reach for the tablet to check the time. Not even seven a.m. “What were you working on?”

Tony favored him with an eye-roll that clearly meant to say he didn’t buy his change of topic in the slightest. “Nothing in particular,” he told him and tapped on a few buttons on the screen. “I was just going through AIM’s database on Extremis.”

Steve leaned up on his elbows. “And?”

A soft, unreadable shadow fell across Tony’s face. “It’s not pretty.” He held the tablet up. There was a blond guy with a ponytail. He wouldn’t look intimidating at all, if it weren’t for the manic gleam in his eyes.

“Killian?” Steve guessed.

Tony nodded, and opened another clip, one that showed some sort of laboratory. There were a few adults lined up. They were fastened to some sort of horizontal carrier, and their faces were twisted in pain. Tony huffed in distaste. “Just… look at the idiot. Why would someone stuff _five test subjects_ into _one_ single room? One failed experiment blows up everything else. That’s a waste of resources… and time.”

Steve gave Tony a hard disapproving look.

Tony sighed. “Yeah, yeah. And people die. That’s bad, too.”

“Hold that thought.” Steve leaned his upper half over the bed, to reach for his jeans, and rolled his eyes as he felt a little squeeze on his ass.

“Really nice, Rogers,” Tony drawled and snorted as Steve hit him straight in the face with a pillow as he leaned back up. Then Steve threw the little name badge Maya had given him at Tony’s face, but he snapped it out of the air before it could even hit him.

“What’s that?” he asked, moving the card around between his fingers, but a second later there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Huh. I’d forgotten about that.”

“Maya Hansen asked me to give it to you. She hopes you can fix the formula.”

Tony only hummed as he inspected the card.

“Can you?”

Tony grinned up at him, but the smile faltered somewhat as he took in Steve’s expression. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s a bad idea,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“It’s a weapon.”

“No,” Tony started, and a little frown crept up his face. “These crazed orange guys out there are weapons. This…” He held up the card. “Is a failsafe for a weapon.”

Steve huffed. “That’s exactly what Maya Hansen said.”

“You said she will work for SHIELD after this. Why is this a bad thing?”

Steve sighed, looking reluctant to speak. “I’d just… rather have it destroyed than repaired. I’ve seen the videos. It’s not just the strength and the healing power. It’s… these were all good people at some point, Tony, and now they’re killing innocents.”

“You mean it makes them _evil?_ ” Tony asked with disbelief. “Sorry, babe, but that’s complete bullshit. There is no part in this code that has the ability to make anyone anything. It doesn’t amplify; it doesn’t _do_ anything with a human’s personality. You cannot actually mean that—”

“I mean I’d rather not find out, Tony.”

Tony sighed, looking down. “This is a good thing, Steve. In the right hands, this can make this world better. It can help people have a normal life.”

“And what did it take to get to this point? Extremis is responsible for Hundreds of dead people.”

“Is it?”

“What?”

Tony scratched at his face. “Well, it’s the old question, right? Who’s responsible? The guy who builds the bomb or the one who pulls the trigger…”

Steve furrowed his brows. “Both, of course.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “ _Of course?_ ” He sighed. “Good, okay. Let’s say someone gets a hand on my suit and kills people with it. That’s my fault then?”

Tony would certainly _make_ it his fault, but that was a whole other matter. “That’s different and you know it. You built your suit knowing you would personally control its power. Maya built Extremis and just _willingly_ handed it to the highest bidder. That’s what makes her responsible. Not the virus, but the compromises she was willing to make in order to work on it.”

Tony leaned back and watched him for a moment. “Point,” he said then, and held up the card again. “One more reason to let me fix her mistake. I promise you we’ll keep it under control. And we’ll talk about what to do with it after this is said and done. Deal?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, and rubbed them tiredly. “Fine.”

Tony gave him a look of vague irritation. Then he sighed, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple before he swung his legs over the bed. “You go get some more sleep. It hasn’t even been four hours.”

Steve leaned back into the sheets and watched Tony’s naked form slowly padding towards the bathroom. There was an assortment of scars on his left arm, mingled with burns and cuts both, and a slight hesitation and hitch as he lifted it to turn on the water. He’d probably dislocated his shoulder at one point and then yanked it back into place.

“You should sleep some more, too,” Steve called.

“Nah,” came Tony’s answer. “You know me. I’m practically running on battery. Four hours is plenty.”

Steve _could_ argue, but he decided to just leave it be. It was no use anyway. Tony would only lie awake at this point. With a problem to solve right at his hands, he would never be able to shut down. He might as well put his energy to good use.

When all this was done, when they were save back home, Steve promised to himself he would just wrap around Tony and wouldn’t let him get out of bed for a few days straight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Steve woke up, the other side of the bed was empty. His hand automatically sought Tony’s comfort, but there was nothing. Only the lingering scent of his presence and the slight indention where his body had been over the night. Steve blinked himself to alertness and sat up with a slow sigh, taking in the sudden quietness of the room. His senses ached with a deep weariness. It would obviously take some time for him to stop becoming anxious every time Tony wasn’t right at his side. Without needing to know at all, he recognized that the bed had been abandoned only a little while ago.

The room was suddenly very cold. On the pillow next to Steve lay Tony’s tablet. He grabbed for it, turned it on and read the message on the screen.

_Off to buy waffles and no, don’t give me that look. They’re delicious and you wore me out and I need waffles. You can terrorize me again when we’re back home. Be right back, Tony_

Steve snorted and leisurely flipped through the tablet’s menu for a bit. There were still a few open documents, all full with various lines of code. Steve frowned at the foreign symbols and equations, but honestly, he could just as well have been looking at hieroglyphs. Most of the data was tagged as _Extremis Modified_ with varying file formats.

“JARVIS?” he called in the direction of the tablet’s microphone.

For a second there was nothing. Then, the light of the camera started blinking. “How can I help you, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS’ voice didn’t sound as clear as it did in the tower, or on the com-line, but it seemed stable enough.

“I…” Steve began and looked down on the different formulas. He sighed. It was useless to agonize over whatever Tony had decided to do with the virus. He wouldn’t understand, and… he needed to stay true to his words and simply trust Tony when it came to these sorts of things.

“Never mind,” he said quietly, putting the tablet down. Tony had promised to be careful. Moreover, he’d promised to let Steve in on the changes after they took down Killian, and that was that. That had to be enough.

That thought was what finally jarred him out of bed. After a moment, he was on his feet. Bed sheets and various clothes were wildly strewn across the floor as Steve made his way through the room. He showered, and threw on some jeans and one of the t-shirts Pepper had packed for him. By the time he had dressed, and packed their stuff, Tony was coming in through the front door.

He wore huge red sunglasses, a cap and had a checkered scarf around his neck. The hoodie of his sweater was drawn low over his head. “Good, you’re awake,” he said, pulling off the glasses and pointing it’s bows at Steve. “Just got a message from Romanov. We’re crashing the party in three. There’s waffles in the car for you.”

Steve smiled, and shouldered the bag with his shield. He took a last look at the room, then he padded towards Tony. “Good. Let’s go.”

It was the least nutritional breakfast in the world, that much was sure—and Steve was pretty sure that Tony had only gotten him some weird looking green spinach waffles to make fun of him—but there were some sacrifices to be made on a mission. They ate in companionable silence, while Tony drove them the last miles down to their rendezvous point with SHIELD.

There was a bit of an irony to the fact that Steve’s day had started off with this perfect blissful laziness and would inevitably end up all but wreaking of destruction. The last days had been an emotional and physical rollercoaster for the both of them, and today wasn’t looking any better.

Tony pulled the car up to the pine forest surrounding Killian’s villa sometime before noon. Together, they stepped out and weren’t even granted the opportunity to indulge a breath of fresh air before Coulson trailed out of one of the SHIELD vans.

“Stark,” Coulson said, and as soon as he was in reach, he pulled Tony in a somewhat awkward hug.

“Agent,” Tony replied a little baffled, and that earned a low chuckle from Coulson. As they stepped back, their imploring eyes met. Coulson offered a shrug, which Tony answered with a weak smile, and that seemed to be it.

It looked like there was too much to say between them, so they decided to just not say anything at all. Steve didn’t know much about their friendship—or whatever it was they wanted to call it, mutual respect maybe—but it didn’t seem to be something that could be expressed with any measure of success in words.

Coulson eventually led them to some sort of clearing. About half a dozen SHIELD agents were hiding behind a steep slope, with about ten more on top of the cliff, looking down on the villa with large field glasses. On the ground, Natasha, Clint and Bruce were already waiting for them.

Nat was reclined comfortably in some sort of folding camp chair. She appeared to be thoroughly occupied with a designer magazine, though it was more than obvious that she wasn’t seriously fixated on any article. Next to her Bruce leaned against a tree, and his expression was one of deep concentration as he was tapping on the tablet in his hand. Clint was perched faithfully at the edge of a little hill further down the clearing, the epitome of a hawk studying its prey. If they were aware of his and Tony’s approach, they didn’t show it. Instead, Natasha continued flipping to her leisure and shaking her head disapprovingly at various headlines.

“Status?” Steve asked Coulson, while they walked up the slope from the other side of the clearing.

“We’ve been waiting for over five hours,” Coulson told them, pointing at the villa. “Killian only arrived at about nine, with half a dozen of his soldiers in tow. There has been zero movement in the last half hour, so we’re guessing they’re underground.” He glanced at Tony. “I’m sorry. They had Iron Patriot with them.”

“Rhodey?” Tony asked, completely taken aback. “But he was in Pakistan. He said, he…” …was making friends. Tony sighed. “Aw, fuck, come on.”

“He was still in the armor,” Coulson assured him. “It should take them a few hours to get him out of it, right?”

Tony’s face contorted into an expression that could freeze Hell, though the determination edged into his features looked more prone to raise it. “Depends on what kind of toys they have in there.”

“So,” Clint called from behind them, and clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Not that a little break from you daily bullshit wasn’t great and all, but… it’s good to have you back, man.”

He hadn’t even seen them moving. Natasha was already standing right next to him, and tossed him a little welcoming smile. Bruce was still staring at his tablet, but he was slowly padding closer. He smiled, as he came to a stop. “It really is, Tony.”

“You can kindly stop the dramatics now,” Natasha agreed snidely, planting her hands on her hips.

Tony grinned in spite of himself and shook his head at the people surrounding him, like he still had trouble to really understand why they even bothered with him. “I might try to tone it down a little.”

“Our men counted about thirty people in there,” Coulson said, clearing his throat and leaning forward as though such movement would grant him a better view of the villa. “Killian, Slattery and Miss Hansen included. The laboratories seem to be in the basement, the rest of the building is used mostly for living quarters, and the film studio where they shot their television announcements.” He flashed a quick glance at Bruce. “I think it would be better for you to sit this one out, Doctor. We should try to make this a as subtle as possible.”

Steve nodded at Bruce in agreement. “He’s our last resort.”

Tony tossed him a hard look. “What about me? I’m definitely not staying behind. If they’ve hurt Rhodey, I’ll—”

Clint placed a hand on the Tony’s shoulder. “Save it for the bad guy, man. I think we know what you’re going to do them isn’t pretty.”

“You probably should,” Coulson said warily, and glanced at Steve. “Stark isn’t trained in stealth ops, and he’s not exactly… sneaky.”

“Hey,” Tony frowned and his gaze hardened. “I can be sneaky.”

Clint huffed. “You clearly need an update, Phil,” he drawled and waved a hand at Coulson’s general direction. “Steve shouldn’t have to leave his boyfriend behind now. The man just died, right? You haven’t been there for the grand show, but these two have practically been joined at the hip since they, you know… _joined_.” He made an unpleasant face and got a well-deserved smack at the head from Natasha. “I vote Stark comes.”

Steve pursed his lips at that, hazarding a glance in Coulson’s direction. “Actually,” he began hesitantly. Next to him, Tony immediately gulped a mouthful of air and was obviously just about to start another yelling match with him, as Steve held up a hand to give him pause. “He’s coming with us,” he said. He wouldn’t take this away from Tony, not after everything that had happened. He might be biased about it, sure, but in times like that, there was only a certain level of professionalism he could uphold.

Coulson shrugged with concession. “Your call, Cap. It’s your team.”

“It is.”

Coulson looked back at Tony, then, pursing his lips considerately. “Just stay behind for once, all right? Don’t make any unnecessary sounds, keep your surroundings in mind and… for the love of God, keep the chatter to a minimum.”

Tony rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Thanks so much for the crash course, Mr. Miyagi.”

“You’ll go without the armor for this one,” Steve said. “Take the suitcase with you. Just… maybe try to not let it lie around somewhere this time, yeah?”

Tony rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed. “Oh, I knew you’d eventually throw this back at me, you blackmailing sass-monster. You were just waiting for the right opening, weren’t you?”

Steve grinned. “Oh honey, if I needed an opening for blackmailing you, I’d hardly have to go digging.”

Clint’s hands came up in protest. “Whatever kinky sex games you are referring to, keep me it to yourself.”

Tony rolled his eyes at him. “You only wish you could get that lucky, bird boy.”

Steve sighed. “Be nice Tony—”

“Yeah, yeah. All’s well that ends well,” Tony said coolly, holding up a hand in mock surrender. Then he looked down at Steve’s ass. “And yours definitely ends well.”

Steve favored him with a long sideways leer and whacked his arm, earning a loving snort in turn.

“Might I point out that it hasn’t ended at all, yet?” Coulson volunteered with a grimace. “This is a level of PDA I can’t deal with.”

Clint shrugged. “Try _avoidance_ , Phil. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.”

Tony tossed him a mildly amused glance. “Tell me one time that MO has worked, Barton. Anytime will do.”

There was a beat of silence. Clint was about to open his mouth, but Steve cut him off. “We still have a job to do,” Steve reminded them, turning back to Coulson. “Do you have clothes for this?” He pointed down to his bright blue sweatshirt. “Maybe something a little less noticeable?”

“Of course, follow me,” Coulson said, and pointed towards the vans, and a few minutes later, they were changing into SHIELD’s basic black cargo pants, white shirts, and bulletproof vests.

“You’re a mess, Stark,” Clint observed from where he was kneeling on the floor.

Tony looked down at his naked chest, before he arched a cocky brow. “Half of it came with a lot of lovin’,” he drawled, “if you know what I mean.” The look in his eyes had all the markings of a good challenge. Then, with a little wicked smile, he leaned forward to nibble suggestively at Steve’s throat.

“Okay,” Clint said slowly from his seat next to them. “Officially scarred for life.”

“You know what to do when you’re inside, right?” Steve inquired, leaning over to Tony to help him into one of the bulletproof vests.

Clint snorted. “That’s what Tony said.”

Tony laughed at that. “Trust me, I’ve got this. Besides…” He kicked at the suitcase lying at his feet. It opened up, and as soon as Tony bent down, the upper half of the Iron Man suit assembled. “Don’t need a full suit to kick ass.” Tony looked up and smirked at him. “Got a screwdriver?”

Steve felt in his pocket and pulled out the little tool. He held it for a moment, feeling its weight in his palm, before taking Tony’s hand and placing it in his palm.

They watched Tony fumble with the suit’s gauntlets for a bit, before one of them came off, and another few minutes later, the second. Tony inspected the gauntlets. Then, he ejected a longer cable from the suitcase and—completely ignoring the disbelieving gasps around him—pulled up his shirt and stuck the open ends directly into the arc reactor.

He raised an eyebrow. “Every suit is powered via a direct link to the arc. It just…” He nestled at the cable. “…normally looks a bit more fancy and a little less like DIY tech.”

Steve nodded at that, and turned around, as Coulson walked over to them with one of his walkie-talkies in hand. “We’re ready. Tell your team to take position at the side entrances; we’re going in through the patio. I’ll give you the go to search for Colonel Rhodes.”

“Got it,” Coulson agreed with a nod and left.

“Okay,” Steve said, turning back to the others. “Ready?” he asked.

There was a moment’s silence, but they nodded all the same, a resolute expression set on every single face.

Steve picked up his shield, while Tony bent down to sling the shoulder strap of his suitcase around himself. Natasha’s fingers drifted over the knives located at her belt, while Clint adjusted his quiver.

That was where the line would end. No more delays.

Steve smiled at his team, and nodded briskly. Their eyes met with understanding. And that was it. “Avengers,” he said. “Assemble.”

 

 

* * *

 

Steve didn’t know what he had been expecting. An army of some sorts. A dozen of mad scientists. Hundreds of laboratories. _Something_. From outside, the villa was impressive, sure, but definitely not impenetrable. Their entrance went surprisingly well and while the villa was—for all intents and purposes—seemingly deserted, the complete lack of human presence didn’t sit right with him.

“It’s too quiet,” Clint muttered.

Well, their steps certainly were not. The feeble attempt of four people to stealthily make their way through the premises would’ve surely gone to hell on a different occasion. Tony just wasn’t built for that sort of mission. He tried, and for someone who’d never done this sort of thing before, he wasn’t even doing such a bad job. Still. Under different circumstances, even the slightest noise wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.

As it was, the lobby of Killian’s villa was encased in bright light, and there was no sound to be heard, no movement whatsoever. There were huge chandeliers on the ceiling, long wooden dining tables, elegant couches, and a large fireplace at the side of the huge entry hall. While all that wasn’t exactly suspicious, it wasn’t difficult to see that something was very wrong here.

“This doesn’t seem right,” Steve said.

Tony appraised him with a long look. “Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious.”

“ _Wendy, I’m ho-ome_ ,” Clint mumbled.

Tony hummed in agreement, while Natasha only rolled her eyes at him.

Steve blinked and looked at them oddly. “What?”

“He’s referring to The Shining,” Tony clarified before Clint could leap in with explanations. “Bad horror movie made in the ‘80s.”

Clint stopped and gaped at Tony. “Did you seriously just call The Shining a bad movie?”

Tony sighed. “If you’d read the book, which you didn’t, we wouldn’t even be discussing this.”

“Kubrick is a genius.”

“His adaption was still awful.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to follow the book.”

“As fascinating as this is,” Steve said slowly, venturing a step forward. “Maybe we can go back to our mission?” His gaze swept the scene before them. There was still nothing.

Together, they stepped up to the first entryway, peering inside. No difference. The lobby was vacant. The upper hallways, as far as they could see, were empty as well. Still, there were a few scents that lingered, telling him that the villa had definitely been inhabited recently.

“A trap?” Clint asked, while he directed his bow into the next empty room.

Natasha sighed, while she stalked forward. “Or someone tipped them off.”

“Who could that have possibly been,” Clint sing-songed.

“Quiet,” Steve ordered.

They walked up to the next floor, peering around the corner, and waited a few seconds. Nothing. Then, suddenly, voices permeated into the corridor, echoing from a room at the other side of the stairway.

About half a dozen men stormed out. Their eyes were glowing a fierce red. Three of them were going straight for Steve. They came at him with a mix of blows and low kicks. It seemed they were everywhere at once; they tore at his uniform and dug their burning fingers in his flesh. They matched him strength for strength and it wasn’t often that he encountered someone that could give him an honest run for his money.

Eventually, he fought all three of them off, knocked them unconscious and dropped them on the floor. And as soon as he could, he whirled around to Tony. His concern was uncalled-for, though. Tony had blast his attackers to the ground before they could so much as throw a punch at him. He was on his feet the next second, rolling over the floor and shooting another repulsor blast at an Extremis soldier who was about to jump at Clint’s back.

A smack to his jaw sent Steve to the ground, but he leveraged his position to sweep the man off his feet with a roundabout kick. And seconds later, Natasha’s foot crashed down on the face of their last attacker with a callous thump.

Tony grinned wryly and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. There was a thin trail of blood on his lip, but otherwise, he seemed to be fine. He looked down at the group of unconscious men and shook his head. “Too easy,” he breathed. “A diversion?”

Natasha nodded next to him. “I’d say so.”

Together, they moved forward into what appeared to be a large study room. The man they’d believed to be the Mandarin was reclining comfortably against a large wooden desk, his arms folded crossly against his chest. With his long robe, the shabby beard, and the hard, unforgiving eyes, he looked just as menacing as he did on the television, and it took Steve a moment to remind himself that this wasn’t their enemy—this was merely an imposter. A snicker rumbled through the man’s lips, as he noticed them entering—which earned an inquisitive look from Clint. “Why is he laughing?”

“The Avengers,” Slattery said in the deep, dangerous voice they all already knew from his speeches. “You are much too late.”

So Maya really had tipped them off after all. Perfect.

“He only just started talking and I’m bored already,” Tony murmured next to him.

“Second that,” Clint agreed.

“Killian is gone. Search the premises for Colonel Rhodes,” Steve said into the com, before he stalked towards Slattery. “When did they leave?”

There was no emotion whatsoever on Slattery’s face, and that wasn’t something Steve was used to. Every time the Avengers stepped up somewhere, especially the full team, they were met with fear, or at least—a respectful wariness. He might not be an expert like Natasha when it came to human emotions, but he knew enough about it to identify when people were unsettled. Trevor Slattery was not. A dark rich chuckle colored the air. Slattery leaned forward, and crossed his fingers, his many rings clinking together. He supported his weight on the desk in front of him, as he leaned closer. “You will _never_ be able to stop us,” he drawled mysteriously and glared at them. “We are everywhere. Soon we will control this world and we will burn in to pieces before you can so much as take a step in our direction. Come near us, and we will destroy everything you ever loved. All your struggles will go to waste right before your eyes.”

Natasha only rolled her eyes at him. “Cut the crap, Slattery. We know who you are,” she said as she towered over him for a moment, then simply gripped his throat and lifted him upwards. “When did they leave? Where did they go?”

“W-ww… what…” Slattery gurgled, and completely abandoned his act in a matter of seconds. He squirmed with wide eyes. “Hey, lady,” he choked and tried to catch his breath, as Natasha slowly let him down with an expectant glare. “Well,” he coughed, and now his British accent came through. “Love the attitude. Levelin’ the playin’ field, yeah? Always liked that about soldier ladies. You exude all that self-dependence. All that strong _lady juice_ …” He glanced down speculatively to Natasha’s body, and his hand made the slightest movement in her general direction, before he was smashed down on the floor with a black boot firmly pressed into his neck.

“Oi!” he yelled, squirming on the ground. “Tha s’posed t’ be funny?”

“ _When and where?_ ” Natasha said matter-of-factly. “You have ten seconds.”

“You better listen to her,” Clint offered and lowered his bow, eyeing Slattery with a pair of very stern grey-blue eyes. Then he let loose an arrow, which landed not even a single millimeter away from Slattery’s nose. “That was your warning shot. You have five seconds before I fire again. And trust me, the word _miss_ is not in my vocabulary.”

A few minutes later, Trevor Slattery hovered over the front desk, nodding furiously at every single question. He spilled everything he knew about Killian’s plans—the President, Air Force One, the planned public execution at the Roxxon Norco, but also about Maya Hansen. She hadn’t, in fact, betrayed them—she’d been abducted, brought to the oil-drilling platform to die there as well. At first, Slattery had been too crazy and, well, too drunk, to even be afraid of them, but it had taken Natasha exactly a minute to crack him and now Slattery looked like he was just a second from crying.

“Okay,” Natasha repeated. She was shaking her head as though she needed to wake from an increasingly strange dream, and all but groaned when Slattery tried once more to get a better glimpse at the football game playing on the television behind her. She gave him a look that could easily freeze Hell, thaw it, and freeze it again. “Why did they leave you behind?”

Slattery frowned, not following. “They… wanted me to give you the message?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and he felt his patience begin to ebb. “ _Why?_ ”

“Because… they wanted to have the last laugh?” Slattery said with a frown. “What the fuck do I know, mate?”

Clint groaned, and glanced at Steve. “Can I kill him?”

“Not yet,” Steve commented.

Slattery’s eyes widened with alarm. “Oi, no need to be crude.”

“No need—” Steve repeated, and took a deep breath to stop himself from yelling. “You _do_ realize that people _died_ because of what you did, right?”

A defiant scowl befouled Slattery’s features at that. “Listen, mate,” he said. “I’m here for one purpose only: to play a role. ‘F a few bystanders ‘appened to get knicked in the process, I don’t know fuck about it.”

Natasha leaned forward provocatively, eyes darkening, when—

“Oh, wow,” a distorted voice echoed as Coulson and his men stepped into the room. “You weren’t kidding, man. Everyone’s here.” Iron Patriot’s faceplate opened up, revealing a disheveled and sweaty looking but seemingly unhurt Rhodey. “Afternoon, everyone.”

“Oh, don’t ‘afternoon, everyone’ me,” Tony snapped from where he was reclined against the front desk next to Slattery, his arms folded crossly at his chest. “I thought you were making friends! Getting kidnapped is not making friends, Mr. Stockholm.”

Rhodey’s eyes darted around the room, until they settled on Tony. There was a relieved smile tugging at his lips as he stepped closer. “Yeah, they weren’t so friendly after all.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.”

He let out a loud _ugh_ as Rhodey embraced him with his metal arms. He pulled him up around his middle, and pressed him against the suit in an almost intimate way.

“Beware of the goods, Rhodes,” Tony chuckled richly.

Rhodey nodded with a wry smile, rolling his eyes at Tony fondly. “Shut up, asshole. I’m feelin’ the love here.”

Tony snorted, but hugged him back with an intense expression of gratitude on his face. “Real good seeing you, buddy.”

“You were buried beneath your _house_. In the _ocean_. I think it wasn’t you seeing _me_ again that was in question here.”

Behind the two, Coulson gave a deep sigh as he stepped into the room and took in his surroundings. “So they got out without us noticing. That’s… a let-down.”

Rhodey frowned as he released Tony. “That’s really not the Mandarin?” he asked with a nod in Slattery’s general direction.

“No,” Tony said as he followed his gaze. “That is a stage actor.”

“If you’re here,” Clint started with a nod in Rhodey’s direction. “How do they even want to get their hands on the President? Not like they can still pull off the whole Trojan horse number, huh?”

“Let’s not find out,” Coulson said, looking at Steve. “Cap?”

Steve took a deep breath, and nodded. The pieces were set, and it was time to move. He turned around to address the room in general. “All right. Seeing as Killian left all this information on a silver plate, I’d say he’s planned this and is waiting for us. We don’t know what he has in store, but we can’t afford to wait any longer. If he thinks he has his back to the wall, he might not back away from anything at this point. If we manage to get the President into safety, he doesn’t have any leverage, and we can take him down. Iron Patriot, Black Widow, Hawkeye, you’ll make sure Killian doesn’t get his hands on Ellis. Coulson, you and your team, Hulk, Iron Man, and I, we’ll go to the Norco, find Killian and bring him to justice.”

As they all gradually filed out, Tony put the suitcase down in front of him and stepped into Mark Five. Steve smiled up at him as the faceplate shut down. “You know, this was the first suit I saw you in. At least, personally. After we met.”

Iron Man cocked his head at him. There was a pause, then he nodded. “Monaco, right. God, that’s awfully long ago.”

“Don’t you think it’s time?” Steve asked, nodding at the suit.

Tony opened the faceplate at that. He blinked and looked at him for a long, dumbfound moment. “You think so?”

Steve shrugged. “He knows you’re alive, anyway. Nothing’s keeping you, and all those sleepless hours of yours shouldn’t be for nothing, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tony answered, and ducked his head to hide the grin that instinctively claimed his lips. He closed the faceplate again. “J?” he asked.

“All systems are perfectly stable sir. Fire power on maximum.”

“Good. It’s time to bring out the big guns, buddy.”

“The ‘house party’ protocol, sir?”

Tony nodded, and Steve could hear the excitement in his voice. “Exactly.”


	7. To The Innocent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All things considered, I should've probably saved the fluff for something like... uh, let's say... a MCU Civil War announcement, huh? This is bad timing and I apologize in advance. This chapter is a little heavy, so fair warning. (You should still read it though. Please read it :x)

**Steve**

 

It was easy to see why Killian had chosen this place for his big showdown. The sun had just set, and the Roxxon Norco lay in front of a dark, ambiguous platform with even more dark, ambiguous figures stalking around on the various levels of the oil-drilling platform.

From what he could see, there were more than thirty transformed Extremis soldiers around. It was a hopelessly clichéd place that seemed to attract all kinds of lost souls. Wherever Steve looked, another soldier with orange glowing eyes waited to be discovered. They patrolled around the two huge trailers that separated the premise into three almost secluded areas. There was movement on the ship, movement that wasn’t necessarily related to the flow of the water. Something didn’t feel quite right, but it was hard to put a finger on it.

They hadn’t made a move yet—had done nothing but circle the expansive premises several times, while they waited for Natasha’s mark. On any other mission, Steve would have played this out. Engage in a game of hide-and-go-seek, until he saw the perfect opening for a move. Now they couldn’t wait for that. He didn’t understand what Killian’s plan was, now that he was seemingly stripped of all options. And now that they knew with a certainty that the President was safe with SHIELD, that Killian did not have any hostages, they couldn’t prolong this anymore.

While Steve was sure Killian had anticipated their arrival, he was convinced the man did not have enough men to actually pose a threat. Between himself, Tony, Bruce and Coulson’s team, they clearly outnumbered Killian’s small army—if not in men, then certainly in strength. They had all fought the Extremis soldiers before, and while there had been some close calls from time to time, they had always been able to defeat them. The others were already on their way to the Norco, and Steve was fed up with hiding, and so, quite obviously, was Tony.

“All right,” Steve said. He adjusted the straps of his Stealth uniform and pointed to a ladder in the distance. “You and Coulson come in from the front, I sneak in from the other side.”

SHIELD opted for a dramatic all-at-once entrance. While Tony swept in with Coulson at his back, shooting his repulsor-blasts at Killian’s men, Steve saw his chance and moved, fixed on the main target. He didn’t see Maya Hansen on his way up, but he figured they could still deal with her later on.

In ten minutes flat, Steve had knocked out about a dozen Extremis soldiers, and easily found Killian in one of the bigger trailers on top of the tower crane. It was easy.

Too easy.

He took Killian by the scruff of his collar and stared down on him, while holding his shield up high, ready to swing at him if need be.

“Call your men back. It’s over,” he grunted at him.

Despite everything, Killian didn’t even bat an eyelash. And for the moment there was nothing that Steve found more irritating. Killian was hardly a man who struck fear into anyone’s heart, even after the transformation Extremis had brought to his body. On the contrary, he stood promptly, business-like, with a small smile that seemed to be implanted on his mouth. This was a man who was right where he wanted to be.

Steve held him still. Tight, firm, and uncompromising. It was time Killian Aldrich learned firsthand with whom he was dealing.

“Captain America,” Killian greeted, shifting in his grip. The pleasantness that reeked from his tone matched the agreeably disarming expression on his face. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, yet. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Steve’s mouth quirked a bit. “I’d be careful who you offer that hand to. You might just lose it.” He gave a sadistic smile—and it achieved its purpose. Killian shivered a beat of palpable fear. Sure, it was only a beat, but it was enough.

“There are worse things to lose, aren’t there?” Killian asked with a toothy grin and glanced down where Tony was still fighting side to side with Coulson’s team.

That was it. Steve shoved him into the next wall and pressed the edge of his shield to his throat.

“Oh, there’s… rhm… no need for this, Captain”, he choked. “I’m honestly delighted that you could make it to my little party. We couldn’t have started without our _special guest_.”

There was not one part of that sentence that he liked. “Special guest?” Steve asked. “The president won’t be arriving any time soon. Your plan has failed, Mandarin.”

The smile on Killian’s face remained amiable, and had he been anything but human, he would have found his head ripped off his shoulders for what he’d done to Tony. He was already treading dangerously close to the proverbial border as it was. “Oh, Ellis was just plan B,” he explained good-naturedly. “Means to an end, you know what I mean? It’s a bit of a let-down that we won’t get the big PR now, but well, you can’t have it all, can you? No. _You’re_ my special guest, Cap.”

It wasn’t overly hard to understand where Killian was going with this. Steve had heard this before. In the end, Killian was a scientist, too, and his own virus wasn’t working the way he’d wanted it too. And now, here was Steve.

Of course, a man like Killian would want the serum.

Steve snorted. “SHIELD’s busy taking your whole ship apart at the moment. What makes you think you can make any demands here?”

It was the question Killian had waited for, it seemed. His face split into a maniacal grin, as he glanced sideways. “You see, that’s the beauty of it. I don’t need to demand anything. You will give me what I want, and I won’t even have to lift a finger.”

And then, it seemed Killian really intended to put his words to good use. Down below Steve’s feet, the many doors of the trailers suddenly opened at once and _Hundreds_ of people rushed out of them. Something was off about their movements, something Steve didn’t understand at first. And once they were out in the open, they all but jumped at the nearest agents like feral beasts.

“You see. Maya was going about this the wrong way. Extremis never had to be _perfect_. It doesn’t even have to last. This is the next step. Evolution, so to speak. I’m…” He laughed at his own joke. “Mass marketing, you could say.”

Steve’s mind reeled as he looked down. The ship was now full with people— _All sorts of people_. Young, old, tall, short, bulky, thin. There were children, teenagers, adults, and even a few seniors. These were normal people, and they looked even more maniacal than any of the Extremis soldiers they’d faced before. Some of them didn’t resemble anything human anymore. Their faces had a crazed sort of expression about them, their skin glowing like molten lava, liquid fire dripping out of their mouths, and their whole stature wrought with tension.

Steve gasped in horror. “What did you do?”

Killian gestured grandly. “Let’s just say I took the error and turned it into my greatest achievement. It’s unstable? Well, let it be unstable. All these poor, innocent people, Captain… have become vicious little time bombs, now. Take it as my parting gift. And this is only the start. Once the virus spreads… well, just imagine it. Wherever you go, whoever you meet— _all over the world_ —could just go boom any second.” He grinned. “Whatever shall you do?”

Steve didn’t move, didn’t flinch—betrayed nothing that might suggest concern. His gaze once again focused resolutely on the self-proclaimed Mandarin, daring the other man to blink.

“Tick tock, Captain.”

“They will all explode,” Steve conceded, darkly. “And you have the cure?”

“Yes.”

Steve took Killian’s collar in both hands and pressed him into the wall. “Where?”

Killian laughed right into his face. “Yeah. That’s kind of the point, you know?”

“I could crush the life out of you right now.”

Killian only smiled pleasantly. “Oh, I’m sure you could. But you won’t.”

“Won’t I?”

Killian looked at him askance. Then started to laugh. “You don’t kill humans, Steven Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes blazed. “You don’t qualify as a human being. You play your little games, and people die. Innocent people die.”

Killian’s gaze twinkled in turn, and he leaned forward a fracture of an inch. “And yet, I just can’t seem to care.” Another blinding smile. “But _you_ do, which is the whole point of this. You see, while you’re making hollow threats at me, your boyfriend’s about to get crushed to pieces any second.”

Steve shook with anger. “You won’t lay a _finger_ on him.”

“Me? No. No, no, I won’t. I’m here, right? Chatting with you so nicely. But I’m afraid I accidentally set Tony Stark as the top priority of my little minions. Sorry. The kill command should go off in—” He held up his wrist watch. “Oh… plus minus ten minutes.” Killian’s voice changed just a note, at long last allowing a note of threat to seep through, as he looked down were the others were still fighting. It was near imperceptible, but was there nonetheless. “He thinks he’s a hero? We’ll see about that. Without his toys, he’s just a weak little rich man, and it will be my genuine pleasure to watch him being ripped to pieces.”

There was a cold pause as Steve’s gaze met his again. “He _is_ a hero,” Steve spat. “And he’s more than scum like you ever will be.”

“Oh, hush,” Killian said with a mock pout. “Captain America shouldn’t speak sour words like that. Whatever shall the children say?” He glanced downwards again. “Now then. Where to begin? I think your sweetie-pie is going to have trouble down there soon. He’s probably waiting for his champion to save him. Off you go Stars and Stripes.”

Steve glanced inquisitively to the lowest level of the platform, where, true to Killian’s words, a group of people were noticeably closing up on Tony. They were jumping at him from every which direction, clawing at the metal, and there were already a few holes in his armor, parts missing and thin smoke rising out of the faceplate. Tony could’ve probably flown away anytime, but that would leave the SHIELD agents down with him to themselves—and to their certain deaths.

In the distance, he saw a few of the test subjects jumping off the ship and disappearing into the night.

This had the chance of getting very bad very fast.

Steve snarled at Killian, before he took one of the metal bars that were stapled next to them, and bound one tightly around his wrists, and another around his upper body. With the virus running through his veins, it wouldn’t keep him for long, but any second counted. He dragged Killian with him as he jumped down a few levels. When he’d reached the ground floor, he tossed Killian to one of the remaining SHIELD agents.

“Take him to Dr. Banner. _Now_ ,” he said, and received a shaky nod in return.

“Hulk,” Steve called into his com. “Killian is on his way to you. He said he modified the virus, and it will blow all these people up at one point. It’s infectious. We have to get the cure from him, the sooner the better. Use any means necessary.”

There was a pause, then he heard a somewhat labored breathing on the other side of the line. “Gotcha, Cap.”

“Widow and Hawkeye will be here any minute,” came Rhodey’s voice over the com. The tell-tale sounds of Iron Patriot rushed through the air, as the red white and blue armor landed and started shooting at the men around Tony.

Steve exhaled in relief. He held his hand to the earpiece. “Guys. These people—”

“Innocents, yeah,” Coulson said over the com line. “I’m fighting a lady with crutches and a cast. That was kind of a giveaway.”

“Not just that. It’s infectious. It will spread.”

“Nice,” Tony said with a grunt. “Any ideas?”

“Not yet,” Steve admitted. “Killian said there’s a cure. We need to locate Maya Hansen, maybe she knows where it is. Otherwise… avoid skin contact, fight but don’t kill. Aim for the kneecaps if necessary. We have to keep them from escaping the ship.”

Tony snorted. “Peanuts. And here I thought this would be difficult.”

Steve made his way over one of the open trailers and down to assist Rhodey and Tony. At one point, Tony must have tossed the broken suit aside—the remains lay widely strewn on the ground, and Mark Five had obviously not been up to the strength of Extremis—and now Tony was standing out in the open with nothing more than tattered clothes, one gauntlet, and a gun.

“That all you got?” Tony grunted as he kicked one attacker in the gut, while he shot another in the foot.

“I’m beginning to think it’s all _you’ve_ got, Tones,” Rhodey retorted with a gasp, punctuating his statement with a repulsor-blast at a woman who’d nearly landed right on Tony’s back. “Getting a bit lax there, old man.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. I’m just waiting for them to give.”

“Nice tactic. Just not sure if they will ever actually _give_ without being killed.”

Steve settled on Tony’s other side, encircling him with Rhodey. Tony noticed their tactic at once, giving him an eye roll. They fell into their routine, fighting back to back, throwing off dozens of people jumping at them from every which direction, trying hard to knock them out without hurting them in the process.

“Where are the other suits?” Steve called over.

“Won’t be much longer,” Tony grunted. He threw a punch that landed square on an older man’s nose, knocking him back a couple steps. The man recovered, though, and spun around, aiming a kick at Tony’s midsection. Wonderful. The virus had somehow taught these people to fight. But fortunately, Tony could, too. After months of training, Tony was handling hand-to-hand combat with ease and thus it didn’t matter that these people had the strength to easily toss him across the area in a blink. He knew Tony could keep up just fine. In a one-on-one, or even against two of them, Tony handled himself so well. He was too quick for them. Too skilled. And too angry.

“Killian set you as their primary target,” Steve called over to him.

Tony stopped for a moment, and looked at him strangely. “What?”

“I’m not sure how, just—the command will go off any minute. They’re all programmed to come at you. You have to leave the boat. _Now_. I got your back.”

Even over the noise, Steve could hear Tony snort. “And leave you behind? We’re outnumbered. Try again, Spangles.” He got hit by a particularly large guy. The brutal punch to the cheek sent him tumbling onto his back, but Tony flipped upright in a flash, eyes blazing, angry irritation controlling his every move. “We can stop at any time, you know,” he joked at the guy, as he leaped to his feet. “’cause, hate to break it to you, but you look a bit worse for wear.”

The large guy only growled, while a steady pool of lava leaked out of his ears and nose.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he grabbed the man’s hips, turning him around before he rendered him unconsciousness with a good hit with his shield. “You’re vulnerable without your suits, Tony. How do you plan to fight them off without—”

“Stuff it, Steve,” Tony snapped defensively.

“I won’t lose you because of your ego. This is not up for discussion!”

Tony stared at him for a moment, his nostrils flaring and his eyes flashing with anger. It was a look he knew too well.

“Tony, _please_.”

“Hawkeye and Widow ETA five minutes, Cap. SHIELD reinforcements incoming,” Coulson offered over the com, and Steve heard him grunting with the effort.

Five minutes. Christ.

At this rate, with more and more infected people jumping on and off the Norco, he wasn’t even sure if they’d hold up another three.

Steve whirled to the side, as he saw four test subjects approaching him directly. There was a man in his thirties, two women, and a boy that couldn’t be older than twelve.

“Tony—” Steve started again, but the man instantly grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms—and his shield. The women rushed him, too, while the boy hung back and watched the action with a sort of drunken look plastered on his face.

Steve slammed his helmet into the face of the man holding him. He grunted in pain, but only loosened his grip enough to grant him some maneuverability. As both women reached for him, Steve kicked his foot up and planted it on the left one’s shoulder. Using it as leverage he swung his other leg up and kicked the second woman in the face. The movement carried him up and over the guy’s head, but he held onto his arms as he went, and heard his screams of pain mixed with the pop of his shoulders as he wrenched the bones out of their sockets.

His boots hit the asphalt and he was free. Immediately, he reached down and grabbed one of the women by the hair, yanked her back onto the nearest balustrade, and dropped to one knee beside her, slamming the shield as lightly as possible onto her head, rendering her unconscious.

Before he could even straighten up, the other woman grabbed him by the arm and tossed him far away onto one of the upper levels of the tower. Steve landed badly, his right ankle straining as it hit the ground. Still, he rebounded and brought the foot up, kicking her in the side of the head. He winced as the impact sent a sharp pain shooting through his leg and foot. He didn’t waste any time, though, let the momentum carry him forward, bringing the shield home right at the woman’s head.

He had about two seconds to take a breath, before the boy jumped on the connecting bridge. It seemed he had decided to join in at last. Steve took a wary step towards him, once more telling himself that—child or not—he didn’t have a choice here, and nearly stumbled downwards, as the boy slid over the grid to punch against his feet. Steve turned around and managed to kick the kid off and watched the boy fall to one of the lower levels. The next second, a part of the bridge came loose, and Steve saw himself falling downwards. Just then, a pair of arms caught him from behind in the last second.

“Watch your step, grandpa,” a female voice said in his ear.

It was about time.

Steve turned to face Natasha. “No respect for the elders.” He smirked. “You’re late.”

She grinned, then jumped over the rail, right onto the shoulders of another Extremis subject. Next to her, Clint was shooting various arrows at some distant targets. Probably the Hulk-tranquilizers, seeing as the people immediately slumped down without another twitch.

And then he heard the Hulk’s loud roar reverberating over the area. Steve whirled around in the general direction, and while he didn’t see Hulk, his eyes landed on Tonyleaning dangerously over one of the huge trailers in the middle of the area. Rhodey was nowhere to be seen.

Tony’s head hung backwards off of the roof, as a man towered over him. Killian didn’t resemble anything close to human anymore. His skin was pure molten lava. He got Tony in a headlock, but Tony responded by elbowing Killian in the gut. He clamored to his feet and instantly fisted Killian by the hair and smashed his head against the railing.

“Atta boy,” Clint commented over the com, and Steve saw him watching the scene from above, an arrow aimed at Killian’s head.

Killian shoved Tony back and prodded forward again. “This is far better than you ever will be!” he shouted. “This is beyond you, Stark. Beyond your comprehension. Beyond your will to grasp anything outside your selfishness!”

Steve saw Tony’s arms rattle with rage, as he pulled out the gun from his pants. And then, without hesitation, he aimed the gun’s barrel and shot Killian straight in the head.

Steve swallowed, stunned, as he watched blood and liquid fire spray down on the ground. There was a moment of pure shock, but he couldn’t deny the surge of relief flooding through him.

It was over.

Still, as soon as Killian’s dead body hit the cold ground, there were already dozens of new Extremis subjects approaching Tony’s position.

“We need to find Maya Hansen. Now. Widow, Hawkeye—”

“On it,” they said in synch.

“Tony—”

“ _No_.”

Rhodey’s strained voice filled the com line. “Just a sec. I’ll fly him out.”

“The suits will be here in a minute, Steve. JARVIS—”

Steve stared down, and for a moment, Tony’s eyes met his.

_Go. Please, go now._

“Let me take care of this,” he echoed his words from the workshop, days ago. “ _Please_.”

A long sigh over the com. “Fine. Fine, okay. I’m out. Rhodey—”

“Got ya,” he said and Steve could only hear the whooshing sound of Iron Patriot lifting off, before he felt a hand tangle in his hair. He looked up into the red glowing face of the re-awakened woman he’d fought earlier.

Natasha landed beside him right then. She yanked on the woman’s hair, dragging her off of Steve, as she brought her legs up over her head and locked her knees around the woman’s neck. She squeezed until Steve heard a desperate choking sound, then flipped the unconscious body forward. The woman flew over the car and landed in a heap on the other side. With her grip, she was dragging Natasha down with her, but it wasn’t overly high, so of course, Natasha landed gracefully on both feet.

“Hawkeye spotted Maya Hansen on the Southern crane,” she told him over the com, and pointed over to the other side of the boat. “She was tied down and gagged, but we got her. She said it’s not just a virus, Cap, it’s a code. She’s trying to rewrite it right now, but she could use some help…”

Steve nodded in relief. “Hulk?”

Silence.

“Hulk!” he repeated urgently.

Nothing but white noise.

“Coulson, we have to try and chase these people back in the trailers.”

“Copy, Cap.”

As he made his way down again, Steve finally spotted the first Iron Man suit flying in above the Norco. The other suits were trailing behind in the far distance, like a constellation of stars slowly zooming in. The first suit already hovered in mid-air, though—it was Mark Thirty-One, the fast one—and it floated in the air like a soldier, waiting for instructions.

Down on the ground, Steve watched as Rhodey sat Tony down on the far side of the platform. Tony had obviously gotten notice from JARVIS. He was saying something into his earpiece, and the suit began to descend, flying towards Tony, when Steve realized that a complete silence had settled over the ship.

And then… suddenly everything seemed to slow down.

Slow down to a horrible standstill.

What must’ve happened within mere seconds, stretched into one bizarre endless sequence before Steve’s eyes.

Every single one of Killian’s Extremis soldiers and every person injected with the new deadly virus stopped in their tracks. From one second to the next, they turned to stone. Something had changed. Right beneath his feet, Hundreds of molten eyes turned sideways in perfect synch. Turned sideways and moved upwards, until they all locked on Steve. Not Tony. Steve.

_We couldn’t have started without our special guest._

Oh God, he’d been so stupid.

It wasn’t the gradual approach of two or three attackers at once. _Everyone_ affected by the virus started to storm towards him. And it wasn’t just the people that had been injected directly, Steve also saw a few SHIELD agents zeroing in on him. Once they started moving, they didn’t run, didn’t climb, they leaped and all but _flew_ upwards. The movement was so fast, so inhuman, that Steve knew they would all reach him within a blink of the eye.

He was alone up here. Secluded from the others. It was all planned. Killian had planned this, Steve was sure. Jumping down wasn’t an option—they would get to him anyway. He didn’t see Clint. Rhodey was still standing next to Tony, and Natasha was on the ground, only staring up at him in horror.

They approached him with inhuman speed, moving up on the giant crane, until its metal started to groan with the strain. It started to bend at a severe angle, the higher the people rose to the top. Steve knew—serum or not—they would be pulling him apart before anyone could so much as move in his direction. He stood stock-still, surprised, shocked, and for once in his life at a complete loss at what to do to prevent this from happening.

With wide eyes, Steve stared back down at Tony, who’d seen it, too. He was screaming something now—and Rhodey was already in the air, but it wouldn’t be enough. The next second, Tony made a huge gesture, and the suit—Mark Thirty-One—took a turn and tore in Steve’s direction instead of Tony’s.

The suit was fast; so fast he could barely follow it with his eyes. It was such a swift movement, that Steve could only blink before the horde of Extremis subjects piled around him and tried and failed to get through the metal that had settled all around him. The suit creaked and crunched, but eventually pushed upwards, though it had some difficulty breaking their holds at first. When it did lift off, it took half a dozen people with him as he clawed for freedom.

The HUD wasn’t completely unfamiliar. Tony had showed it to him before, and he was able get a hold on his surroundings quickly enough. The crane was swaying heavily in the air, as the Extremis subjects changed directions and raced downwards.

“Emergency extract in three,” JARVIS chimed in with a tensed voice.

“What?” Steve breathed.

“Steve,” JARVIS called, and that was— _what_. JARVIS had never, not once, called him by his first name, and— “It was a diversion. You need to save him.”

The suit was descending rapidly, and then Steve understood, _really_ understood, what JARVIS tried to tell him, and what had happened in the last few moments. What had happened and what it meant.

As the suit sliced through the air, Steve got a glimpse of Tony still standing on the trailer. He had no weapons anymore. No way to defend himself. He was whirling around in the other direction—JARVIS made the HUD’s focus externally zero in on him. Somehow, Killian—Killian, who was still alive—had made his way to Tony and now stood in front of him. And Steve was sure Tony must’ve known before, must’ve seen him approach, and—he’d made a decision.

To save Steve. And to sacrifice himself.

There was still a hole in Killian’s head, but it was slowly starting to mend itself, as the molten skin glowed a fiery red.

“James—” Steve yelled into the com.

“I see it,” Rhodey grunted, and Steve could hear him racing behind.

“Alone at last,” Killian jeered loudly, wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dancing maliciously. His human face had been replaced completely. Replaced by heat and fire.

“Extraction incoming,” JARVIS echoed over the com line, even while he started shooting repulsor-blasts from afar at Killian. Repulsor-blasts that only seemed to merge with the fire in his skin.

The suit threw him out directly above the scene, but Killian had predicted this, and hauled Tony off the trailer, only seconds before the crane gave in and came down behind him, effectively blocking the path. Shaking off his stupor, Steve jumped off the next railing, turned around and took off running. His foot hurt. Bad. And while he ignored the pain, he was still somewhat slowed down. He raced around the fallen crane, the shield ready to fly, but it was too late.

Oh God, he was too late.

Tony was kneeling in front of Killian. Mark Thirty-One was already crouching behind him protectively, and Tony’s face was blank as he stared in Steve’s general direction with wide unblinking eyes. He was looking at him, but he didn’t see him.

He didn’t see anything anymore.

There was no blood visible, but there was a hole where the arc reactor used to be. The casing was all but smashed, molten, destroyed. There was no light anymore, no light whatsoever, and then Tony slowly sunk backwards and fell heavily in the suit’s waiting arms.

A deep, thunderous roar of Hulk snapped Steve out of his stupor. It came unbidden; a foreign rush of strength. Steve stormed forward and, with every force he had, he slammed a roundhouse kick at Killian. Killian blocked it, not without effort, but he blocked it, both that and every hard, murderous punch Steve threw at him after that. God, he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. He had to strike hard and fast now. Killian spun on a kick and got him across the small of his back with a sweeping blow of his knee and shin that sent Steve tumbling forward onto his face.

He lay there for a moment, unable to get up, while he tried to get his breath back. He blinked and looked to his left where Tony was still lying motionless against the Iron Man armor.

_No_.

Steve stood up and glared at Killian. Blind rage of pure fury surged through his veins. He ran straight for him and crashed him across the concrete planters with the insane strength that came with that rage. It was rage beyond prompt. Beyond reason. He didn’t care anymore that Killian was human. There was no thought beyond this fury—no compassion, no reason. Steve held Killian immobilized over the concrete, his whole weight across his back and his arm twisted and stretched behind him.

There was only one way. One way to save Tony, and it wasn’t anything Steve wanted to even think about, because the consequences of this decision could easily destroy them both. He didn’t have a choice, though. If his convictions cost Tony his life, Steve would never recover. Never forgive himself.

“Give him Extremis,” Steve snarled at him. “The one you gave your soldiers.”

Killian’s hands were burning against Steve’s skin, his whole body was pure lava, but Steve didn’t care. The air smelled like sulfur and burning wood. Everything was bathed in a flickering orange glow. Fire burned all around them.

Killian laughed at him manically. “Too little too late, Captain. I destroyed it. Every last bit of it. There’s only this now.” He gestured at the feral, crazed men, who were now approaching them at a noticeably slower pace and sluggish movements. There were explosions in the distance, screams of pain, and Steve knew, they had failed. “Only destruction, only death.”

“You’re lying,” Steve shouted, desperate.

Killian grinned at him with bloodied teeth. “Every. Single. One. Of. It.”

Steve kicked him to the ground, pinning his body with both hands. “I’ll give you what you want. If you save him, if he lives, I’ll go with you. You can run tests on me, you can have my blood, I—”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “Your blood? I think I was underestimating the potency of your superiority complex, Captain. What made you think I _wanted_ anything from you?” He leaned up, the vicious glint in his eye burning with more hatred than anyone should hold while maintaining such a calm façade. When he spoke again, his voice was level and composed. “I only wanted him to watch you being torn to pieces. To watch, and to remember, and to break a little more every time. Over, and over, and over again.” He glanced at Tony’s broken form and laughed. “But I guess his death will do, too.”

Steve closed his eyes as his muscles threatened to collapse. His right arm was stretched and aching from where it held his shield with so much tension he felt it vibrating against his skin.

And then, in one single movement—because he didn’t hesitate, not for a second—he severed Aldrich Killian’s head off with it.

Time froze, as Steve watched the blood seep out on the asphalt. There was nothing. Steve blinked and stared down at the body for an endless, dumbfound moment. There wasn’t room for thoughts. He couldn’t think at all. He knew, the moment stretched too long, but he was paralyzed. Absolutely paralyzed.

At the corner of his eye, he saw Mark Thirty-One lean over Tony, one of the gauntlets doing some kind of scan on the broken reactor. The test subjects stood frozen all around him, their blank eyes staring into distance. There was no fire in them any longer. It was over.

Something moved behind him.

Steve lifted his hand in defense and could only barely stop himself from throwing the shield at Natasha. She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t shrink back. Merely studied him for a moment before she took his arm and easily pushed him forward. He closed his eyes in an effort to maintain some semblance of control, as he suddenly stood next to Tony’s lifeless body.

“Steve,” Natasha said firmly. Her eyes were set with understanding and gravity. She was holding his face in both hands, but Steve didn’t see, didn’t feel. “I need you to sit with him and keep him awake. We got the situation under control. I’ll get Bruce, and he’ll implement a replacement, okay?” She knocked a hand at the reactor in Mark Thirty-One. “Stark showed him how, remember? Steve, _hey!_ ” She grasped him by the shoulders, delivering one good, hard shake. “Get it together! He isn’t dead, yet, don’t you see?”

Steve blinked up at her, but didn’t understand. In this moment, he wasn’t even sure how his motor skills didn’t abandon him. How his brain continued to function. How he stopped himself from simply crumpling to his knees and screaming out his pain.

He didn’t know anything anymore.

Natasha shook him until Steve looked down at Tony, and while there was no real movement in his limbs, his brown eyes were darting around, unfocused and very slow, but moving nonetheless.

“I’ll be right back,” Natasha said, and then she was off.

God, the arc reactor was _crushed_. It wasn’t just a crack in the glass cover; the whole casing was deformed to a level that would make it difficult if not impossible to push a replacement into Tony’s chest cavity. Steve fought the urge to simply sink to his knees and weep.

Instead, he sat down beside Tony and pulled one of his cold hands to his lips, kissing it softly. “Sweetheart, look at me…” he whispered, aware that the others and every SHIELD agent on the premise could probably hear him over the com line. He didn’t care.

Tony very slowly turned his head sideways. He was white as a sheet. His eyes had trouble focusing, but eventually they locked with Steve’s. “Hey there, soldier boy,” he choked out with a small smile. His chocolate brown eyes were brimming with tears and raw emotion, while a single trail of blood slowly leaked from the corner of his mouth. Steve’s throat constricted. Hot tears finally welled up and spilled over his cheeks. There was no reason to hold them back now.

“You were the one good thing for me,” Tony spoke softly.

“Don’t,” Steve pleaded, and he could hear the others, shouting at JARVIS to guide the replacement from afar, shouting at the Hulk to turn Bruce over, Coulson trying to get a SHIELD scientist on site. Their voices were full of desperation, but it all faded into a dull noise. He could see Rhodey approaching them with careful steps, could hear him talking quietly to JARVIS, who still cradled Tony in his arms.

Steve’s throat was too swollen and too raw to say anything, so he only wrapped his arms around Tony’s broken body, immediately noticing the absence of a hum from the reactor, and the weak heartbeat, and tugged him as close as he could, urging this moment to last forever.

“I was so happy, Steve,” Tony whispered in his ear. “So _happy_. You’ve made me so happy… So, so happy… so… ha…”

“Tell me what to do, Tony. _Please_.”

Tony shook his head at him, then he looked up into the eyes of the suit. “JARVIS?” he choked with a labored breath.

If Steve had to describe the way JARVIS’ voice sounded as he spoke up through the modulators of the armor, he would’ve probably gone with heartbroken. “Sir?”

“Hey buddy. Change… change Primary-One to R-S… Gamma-Two Point Five. No killing these people. Just… protecting- prot- protect Steve…”

“Very well,” JARVIS said while one of the metal hands started to caress Tony’s forehead. A pause. “It was an honor to have you as a mentor, sir… and as a friend.”

Tony smiled at him before his gaze slowly settled on the night sky. It was a perfect orchestra. The two dozen suits spiraled down to the ground and started to simply grab the last few running test subjects and stuffed them back into the containers. It was beautiful in its own way, their movement in perfect synch with each other. And all this was Tony. His pure genius coming to life right before his dying eyes.

“’ve you,” Tony murmured, then, but even with his enhanced hearing, Steve had trouble hearing him. His lips moved, but there was no sound attached any longer. He felt Tony’s muscles seizing for a final time, his fingers clenching on his palm before slowly stretching out straight. He could feel the strain in his bones all the way to the marrow. Tony’s face turned even paler, while dark bruises formed at the edges of the skin visible beneath Steve’s fingers. Then his eyes closed and his arms fell still. His body went slack. Time stopped and his heart stuttered, once, twice, all the breath sucked from his lungs, as it came to a standstill.

God, no. Please, no.

It came slowly—the first unbearable surges of unfathomable despair. And Christ, he felt it all. _Everything_ there was to feel. There was a tugging at his heartstrings that pulled him downward into an endless spiral of grief. Fury and more sadness than he had ever felt before rushed through him, and he screamed it into the night’s air with a hoarse voice. The sensation of having everything he had ever regarded as precious ripped from him, leaving him cold, naked, and alone.

“Steve.”

It was Bruce’s voice. He was clutching some loose pants around his hips, a white shirt barely draped around his shoulders. Next to him stood Natasha, an arc reactor firmly clutched in both hands, taken from the now lifeless Mark Thirty-One, which still embraced Tony like a cocoon. The panic-stricken look in Natasha’s eyes only affirmed what Steve already knew. There was no way to replace the reactor. Not with the way the casing was all but torn out of Tony’s chest.

Coulson was there, too, standing right behind Rhodey, who kneeled at Tony’s feet with disbelief written all over his face. The faceplate of Iron Patriot’s suit was up, his wide eyes fastened on the large splatter of blood decorating Tony’s shirt.

Behind them, Clint helped Maya Hansen come closer. She looked bad, a swollen black eye and various cuts and bruises around her face. Also, she held a little metal suitcase in her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she told the round in general. “Killian found out, I didn’t… I didn’t tell him. I was working on Tony’s formula when he came in and he fiddled with it until…” She trailed off as she looked down on Tony with wide disbelieving eyes. “Is he…”

Bruce kneeled down next to Steve. With shaking fingers he pressed two fingers at Tony’s pulse point and numbly, he nodded. His eyes wandered over Tony’s chest. He grasped his shirt and tore it through the middle. Around the reactor, there was blood leaking out of the chest wound. Bruce sighed. “There’s no way to reach the socket like this,” he concluded. He was silent for a long moment, a look of intense concentration on his face, then he looked up. First at Maya Hansen, who nodded sharply, then at Steve. “You have to listen to me very carefully now,” he told him. “Tony sent us another formula of Extremis this morning. He… modified it. With Maya’s help, I was able to fix up a first sample, but we didn’t get the chance to do test runs. This would be… a complete shot in the dark, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, confused. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying this might save his life. But I can’t predict to what price. On normal conditions I would _never_ inject this to anyone, I—”

Steve eyed the single vial Bruce now held up before his face. “Do it,” he said immediately.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand. This is not the virus we know, Steve. The betanin is a lot higher, and the nano-bots have a different aggregation. Tony managed to stabilize it, but I have absolutely no idea what he tried to do here. I didn’t have the time to go through the code. This could turn him into something else entirely.”

Steve swallowed. “Tony did this?”

“Yes.”

Trust. He needed to trust.

There. Breathing. Harshly. “ _Do it_ ,” Steve repeated urgently.

Maya sat down next to him. “Turn him on his stomach,” she said to no one in particular, and in the next instant, there were five pairs of hands on Tony’s body, carefully turning him while Clint lay his jacket on the floor beneath him. “I have to inject it straight into the cervical nerves,” Maya explained, as she opened the suitcase and prepared a syringe. “It’s the only way to get it directly into the bloodstream at this point… and to permeate the nervous system.”

“What will it do with him?” Steve asked her, as she drew the liquid into the syringe.

“Extremis will take control of his brainstem. It’s…” Maya took a deep sigh. “ _Usually_ , Extremis overwrites every single information in the body. It tells the body how it could be if it never had been hurt, if there weren’t any bruises, no defects, nothing. It enables the full potential of a human body. It detects everything that is wrong and fixes it. Basically it resets the body to zero.”

Steve wanted to tell her that there was nothing wrong with Tony—that he didn’t need _fixing_ , but it was fruitless. It didn’t matter. Not now. Maya’s hand moved up to Tony’s neck. She swept some of the grime and dust off his skin, before she pushed the needle in. She pressed down on the piston, pushing the fiery orange fluid straight into his body.

Natasha kneeled down and slowly laced her fingers through one of Tony’s hands. “And the arc reactor?”

Bruce cast Maya a look, but she only shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. It might start working again. It might just vanish. I don’t really know. There’s a side-effect, though. He should be forming a cocoon in a few hours. If he survives the transition.”

Steve decided to ignore the last part. Instead he focused on the obvious. “A cocoon?”

“It helps him reshape the nutrients and body mass, creating stronger, more powerful and resilient body parts. We shouldn’t move him during the transformation. If the cocoon starts forming, we’re good.”

“A few hours?”

Maya nodded, though insecurity shone through her gaze. “Eight or nine, probably. This is… I’m really sorry… I wish I could give you more specific information, but this really is a shot in the dark.”

Steve nodded, and gently pulled Tony’s head on his lap. He let his fingers drift through his soft black hair, while his other hand came to rest on top of the broken reactor. It was warm. Still warm.

“What’s Primary-One?” he asked Bruce.

Bruce swallowed visibly. “It’s JARVIS’ primary function. It’s loosely based around Asimov, but—” He frowned. “There’s a lot more to it, with JARVIS. On its very basis, it means to… protect and serve Tony.”

A pause. “And now me.”

Bruce released a shaky breath. “And now you.”

He battled the tears that stung his eyes. Every inch of him enveloped in pain, then transferred into something deeper than he had ever suffered.

“Come back to me,” he whispered into Tony’s ear, and then moved his pleading gaze skyward. One after one, all of the Iron Man suits filed in and slowly drifted into a circular formation above their creator.

Here they held vigil. As did Steve.

And he waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia), who kinda yelled at me because of this, but pushed through anyway. Mostly because of the "Bitches Get Shit Done" class by Kelly Sue DeConnik, whom I also want to thank. <3


	8. Thou Art The Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the wonderful [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia) for her great work on this chapter. I'm not a programmer, but I tried my best. I appreciate any corrections, though ;)

**Tony**

 

He dreamed in numbers.

01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001

That, in itself, wasn’t strange enough to actually unsettle him. He’d often dream in numbers and equations. He’d wake up shouting formulas or mumble a few code lines. It was a weird habit that came with too many hours of programming and too many sleepless hours of working in the lab.

This time though, he felt himself _melting_ with every number he dreamed. He grasped at the endless zeroes and ones before him, aligning himself with the binary code right before his eyes. His mind blurred within the columns, until he became a sequence himself.

import socket sock = socket.socket(socket. AF_INET, socket.SOCK_STREAM) sock. connect((“irc.starkindustries.org”, 451)) nickname = “astark\r\n” encoded_nick = bytes(nickname, ‘astark’) sock.send(encoded_nick)

He felt his body drifting away from him until he was nothing more than an anomaly in-between perfect bit strings.

It was soothing.

Rational.

Logical.

01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 01010100 01101111 01101110 01111001 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011

_Come back to me_ , a new linear sequence echoed through the code lines, a shudder going through the columns, the numbers oscillating, rattling, before balancing out once more.

request username = “USER astark {0} astark :m4tr1c3s\r\n”.format(server) encoded_user = bytes(username, ‘srogers’) sock.send(encoded_user)

He jumped through the lines to analyzewhere the sequence was executed. He tried evaluating its maintainability, seeing as one of the lines had obviously been changed. Usually, the density was indicative of how many lines would be affected, but now he couldn’t get past a certain point. The code around him changed continually, only the barriers were too strong here. This place was a fortress.

There was no coming in.

def profile_page(request, username, messages=None):

   if request.user.is_authenticated() and (request.user.username == username or request.user.is_staff):

       delete messages

       context = {'srogers': User.objects.get(username__exact=username),

                  'Come back to me': messages,}

       return TemplateResponse(request, 'user/srogers.html',

           context)

   else:

       return redirect('access-denied')

There was also no coming out.

01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100101 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100101 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100101

There was a glitch in the code lines.

Something was wrong around its block boundaries, but he couldn’t grasp it. The glitch jumped between the linear sequences, generating overlaps. He checked every start and end tag, and around the glitch, everything seemed to be in place. By now, he was infused with most of the code, and it only took a couple of seconds to check the whole syntax structure for potential errors. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. Perfect in a way he knew—with a deep clarity—that he’d never been before. _Perfect._ There was no need for questioning. He shouldn’t be missing anything. Right here… right now… he was finished. There was nothing wrong with him, no weird antics, no faults, no worries, no disappointments. There was also no metal casing stuffed in his chest cavity, and therefore… no pain, and no inadequacies whatsoever.

He should be feeling perfect.

_You have to come back. You can’t leave me_ 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 _here._

He was starting to get frustrated with the glitch. It shouldn’t mess with the code. The code was sound. There was no need to tinker with it anymore. One didn’t continue to work on something once it was perfect. That was illogical, and ultimately, a waste of time.

_Come back to me. Please, please come back. Come back to me. Please._

Angrily, he jammed some new code lines into the sequences, trying to overwrite it when deleting didn’t work, only to become angrier when the glitch didn’t even seem to notice the changes. It was stubborn, and determined. It was hard to even narrow its location down to a certain block. It was somewhat omnipresent without having an actual form and it all but destroyed his perfect little world.

He tumbled down an endless spiral. The columns rushed past him, but he did not feel it. He was an object in space, as lifeless as any other. To be found and mourned, but not saved. There was no coming back from death.

“Tony!” the glitch screamed. It wasn’t code, it was—it had a _voice_. Deep. Soothing. Familiar. The memory made the code around him tremble and made his insides shake violently. Lines all around him began to get shredded while the glitch seemed to wade through the dead bodies of various sequences, while it simply tore through the columns that surrounded Tony like prison bars.

He knew he was safe here and yet… he found himself walking towards the glitch, reaching out for him.

_I know that voice._

This wasn’t perfection. This was unreal, and lonely and he couldn’t stay here. He wasn’t perfect and he wasn’t meant to be. This wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a prison cell and he had to break out, he

                       had

                             to

                                   get

                                        01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101

                                               back

                                                    00100000 01000010 01100001 01100011

                                               to

                                   01010100 01101111

                       Steve.

            01010011 01110100 01100101 01110110 01100101

A beat, and then every nerve, every impulse wrought into his system drew to a sudden standstill. A hand pulled him out, grasping for code lines… only—it wasn’t code. It was his neck, it was skin, _flesh_. Fingers were drifting over his collar bones, and down to his chest, pulling him out of something. Something white, and sticky and—

He felt the zeroes and ones vanishing. It was time. Tony’s heart hammered with unusual speed, and his breath came in violent bursts. His senses were flooded with information, as if once the door opened there was no way to stop it.

“Tony?”

The world righted itself. There was bright light all around him, a low hum in the air, and an orange sky above his head. The scent of smoke coated the air so thick that he thought he might choke from the weight of it. He surveyed the scene before him. _Fire_ , his mind supplied. Instantly, there were virtual images popping open before his eyes, showing him various images of fire: A cozy fireplace, a lit candle, a torch, a forest fire. Next to the slide-show, a Wikipedia article popped open, telling him that fire was a rapid exudation of material in the exothermic—fuck, he _knew_ that. He had multiple PhDs, he didn’t need _Wikipedia_. He would’ve laughed as a website of the Encyclopædia Britannica popped up instead, but his face was stiff and he couldn’t move. God, everything smelled of smoke and ashes and then… then there was the pain.

He was sure it hadn’t hurt in his little sanctuary only seconds ago and _Jesus Christ_ , now the pain was _excruciating_.

He had never felt like this before. The way his body suddenly sent waves of burning heat through every pore in his limbs, making every inch that had ever been touched scream in pain. Every minor cell had seized command without any form of consideration. A blunt, sharp stab impressed every single nerve. And then pain. God, there was so much pain. Pain that surpassed anything he’d ever experienced, and then some.

“Shit. He’s cramping.”

“ _Why?_ What—”

“I don’t know, I… I think Extremis is still busy rewriting. I didn’t know he’d be awake for this. His muscles can’t keep up. Wait a sec—”

The air was sharp and hot against his skin. There was pain stretching from his fingertips to his toes, along with an awkward soreness to his arms, and a deep throbbing at the reopened wound in his chest. The smoky air did a number on his lungs—nipping and commanding his body with more self-awareness than was rightly owed upon first awakening.

“Hurry, he’s bleeding! God, Tony, stay with me. Please.”

He coughed and felt blood oozing out of his nose and ears. The world was spinning too fast for him to catch up, too many images, videos feeds, too many options. He couldn’t _choose_ where to start. He felt like sinking forward, like setting himself on fire if only to forget the throbbing in his chest. Everything came rushing back. Malibu, Happy, Killian, the President, Rhodey, the arc reactor failing… oh God. And now, now there was a foreign strength coursing through his body, a nearly palpable sensation, but he couldn’t control it, couldn’t stomach it, couldn’t—

“Hold him down.” A woman leaned over him and he had a second to realize there were about ten hands holding him down, five faces staring at him in horror, and then the woman was jamming a huge fucking needle into his neck and—

He screamed and maybe the five people above him had been too, because their eyes were wide and their faces shocked beyond disbelief and then… Okay, yeah… the pain was receding. A blaze of bright color faded into the void. The hurt drained from him. Tony slumped down and nodded. He tried to stretch his arms and legs and was met with little resistance.

“What the _Hell_ ,” Steve gasped above him and then Tony was protectively pulled up against a muscular chest.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ ,” the woman—or, right, memories—Maya Hansen said with an impressive amount of sarcasm in her voice. Even more impressive seeing how she was directing it at Captain America. “Should we have had a heart-to-heart about that? Or a vote? Grow up, Captain. I did what had to be done.”

“Don’t touch him.”

She snorted, but held up her hands in surrender. “Sure. Fine. See if I care when he chokes on his own blood within the next ten seconds.”

Steve shuddered at that, and the hold on his shoulders somewhat lessened. “Sorry. I’m just… sorry. Please check on him.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open, as Maya pulled a stethoscope out of her bag and tapped it to his chest. It was icy cold, and a small gasp resonated in the space between them. Steve’s firm hands on his chest tightened, slipped up to his shoulders, before they tangled themselves in Tony’s hair. Unable to move, or even think, Tony just laid there motionless and lightheaded, staring up into the azure eyes of the man who had once more tipped his universe on its side. His eyes were blurred with the strain. Every nerve in his body was alight, and he felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, as his body was apparently examined from every angle.

He felt like his heart might explode any second. He had never known such raw… _anything_.

“What…” he gasped himself awake at some point, and some time must have passed, because now, Steve and he were alone. Still on the asphalt, it seemed, still surrounded by fire. Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings. The sun was just rising up, and he could hear his team talking in the distance, but it was a far-away sound. Obviously, they were still on the Norco, but the ship was almost empty now. He lay on the ground, and realized that every stitch of clothing had been torn from his body. He was naked, as far as he could see, except for a silver thermal blanket that surrounded his abdomen and most of his legs. Some piece of clothing lay underneath him, and another was balled together to support his head.

All around him was some a strange white fiber, a translucent casing. A cocoon, his mind supplied. The shell was mostly broken, but there was still some material on his skin, and that was… that was actually kind of gross.

“What happened?”

Above him, Steve’s eyes were unfocused and bleary. “Are you… are you okay? Are you hurt? I mean…”

That was a loaded question. Was he okay? He couldn’t honestly tell. An ache streaked across his body, through every cell, and he felt every second of it. A pounding echoed in his chest, and he felt it. Heat rushed over his skin, and he felt it too. No, he wasn’t okay.

He was on fire.

Only the pain was gone now, and the sensation slowly etched into something new. Something _amazing_. Every single movement seemed to be new and unexplored—still lodged somewhere within his consciousness in the oddest sense of déjà vu—but definitely new. He was new. He was something that now existed within the depths of logic. Feelings enveloped him with a hot possession, tightening every muscle in his body, stretching his brain until he was sure it would ooze from his ears. All at once, he felt limber and energetic, though he remained steadfast on the ground. His lungs were filled with an unexpected deep breath, his veins coursing with life.

It came slowly. Recognition. “I died, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Steve whispered.

Tony inhaled, trembling. “I came back.”

Steve nodded numbly.

It was odd to feel pain and bliss at the same time. “Extremis?” he implored softly, although, of course, he already knew. He risked a glance down on himself, and he looked the same, and somehow… not the same at all. Smooth, peachy skin stretched from chest to toes, unmarked, unscarred, and it was so perfect, like he’d just been born. He’d been restored, fully… except for the hole in his chest, where the arc reactor was still illuminating the surroundings with its usual pale blue light. He should probably not be surprised that Extremis had deemed the reactor useful enough to preserve it during the transformation. Only now, it didn’t even feel like an intrusion anymore. It felt like it wasn’t a foreign object any longer, but part of his body.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said—about the reactor, maybe, or the whole affair, Tony couldn’t be sure.

“No,” Tony breathed, looking down on himself in wonder. “No, don’t be. I’m fine, I’m…” _Everywhere_.

The virus consumed him. And it worked perfectly, just like he’d known it would. The whole world seemed to flow with numbers now, a global system of connections. It was such a complex entity that he knew he could have _never_ captured it without the multiple new perspectives weighing on his shoulders now.

The sensations were enough to make Tony drift off again. It was too overwhelming not to give in. A million video and audio feeds collided into one massive jumble, and he didn’t know where to start deciphering the pieces. He dove headfirst into the code lines, no longer willing himself to hold back, now that he had the chance to connect to everything at once; to understand all the interrelations he’d never even noticed before, and never could have imagined. The world was filled with a beautiful network, not much unlike poetry, only it could never be caught in something so rudimentary as words.

“Tony?”

It was difficult to sort through all the information right at his fingertips. Various feeds fought for the pedestal, one never quite triumphing over the other. Images arose in front of him, only to shut down again before he could really grasp anything.

_Let me help you._

Tony blinked. There was a new presence, and it was… it was beautiful. It smoothly filled the remaining vast spaces in his mind and completed his brainwaves in a way he’d never imagined possible.

_JARVIS? That you?_

_It takes some time to get used to, sir._

_I noticed that._

There was a short humming sound, and then all the voices, documents, videos and images mended into one steady tenor in the background of his mind. The conversations were carrying on, but Tony no longer had to follow.

_Huh. That’s better._

_The trick is not to open everything at once, sir. It’s called Minimize._

_Oh, funny. I almost forgot how funny you are._

_I like to think it takes a certain amount of awareness to understand my sense of humor._

Tony snorted. _Thank you, J._

_You are most welcome, sir. May I say how relieved we are to have you back?_

_We? Who’s we?_

_DUM-E and U could see what happened but could not comprehend. It was tedious to explain. They were deeply worried._

_And you weren’t?_

_I had access to the code at all times, sir._

_You mean you monitored me._

_No. I mean I believed in you._

Tony opened his eyes and stared into the sky. Only now he became aware that the humming sound around him came from the Iron Man suits that floated in the air around him. Somehow, JARVIS had brought every available suit here, even the older models, and Mark Seven, who looked mostly broken but hovered right above Tony’s head.

_How did Seven get here?_

_Mr. Keener was able to repair the basic flight power with my help, sir._

_Clever boy._ Tony stared up at the suits. Their impassive eyes were all directed at him.

_I guess we will all hear a lot more from each other in the future._

The suits moved their heads, giving off a little nod.

_We are looking forward to that, sir._

“Tony?” Steve implored softly, his fingers ghosting right above Tony’s eyes.

Tony shook his head a little, reaching out to clasp Steve’s hand where it remained motionless in his lap, and watched his blue eyes close tightly at the contact.

“You keep drifting off on me,” he told Tony with a small smile. “Your eyes are completely black.” He cleared his throat. “Bruce analyzed the virus he injected you with, and he… he tried to explain it to me, but… Where are you? What’s it like?”

“It’s…” Tony breathed in deep, searching for words that could even begin to explain. “Like… I’m here. But I’m also everywhere else. Like every external communications systems is just there, at my fingertips, always available. Satellites, cellular phones, and computers throughout the world, you name it. And I can…” He sorted through the code lines, and blinked at how easy it was to connect to the Avengers com and, _Also do that. Missed me, everyone?_

A beat of silence, then—

“Tony?”

“What the actual _fuck?_ ”

“Oh good, he didn’t kick the bucket—”

“Good hearing you, Stark.”

“Great, now he sounds like a real robot.”

That aroused a snort of amusement from Steve, though now that Tony looked closely, he saw fresh tears on his cheeks. The sight was more than he could stand, and so he took hold of Steve’s face. They moved at the same time, their mouths locked together the next second. The need to feel life coursing through the other, to taste each other was overwhelming. Harsh, desperate kisses—fueled by the promise of being here, now, together. Steve moaned his relief into Tony’s mouth, not holding back, clutching at his shoulders as though something threatened to take Tony away from him any second. Their tongues scraped against one another and the tears wouldn’t stop coming. From Steve’s lips to his cheek, and Tony drew as much of them between his lips as possible.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry for making you go through this over and over again.”

Steve sighed against him. Tentatively, he took his face in his hands and leveled their eyes. “I’d go through this a thousand times, Tony. So long as you’ll be there afterwards, I’d go through Hell and then some. You came back. That’s all that matters.”

Tony clutched him reassuringly, nodding against his cheek. “I… Thank you. For getting to me. I was lost and I wouldn’t have found my way back.”

“I’ll always find you,” Steve whispered, letting his fingers brush through Tony’s hair. He moved forward, and tipped his head, touching his forehead to Tony’s and exhaling a shuddering breath. “Let’s just… not do this again anytime soon, yeah? I could use a break.”

Tony chuckled quietly. “Yeah.” He remained in place, watching Steve closely. His parted lips twisted into a watery smirk, and his mouth moved closer until their lips were lightly touching.

A soft smile flitted over Tony’s lips, after they parted, and he reached up to run the backs of his fingers over Steve’s wet cheek. “Don’t cry.”

“Oh, screw you.” Steve laughed quietly. “You died on me twice within a week. I’ve never been more aware of how easily I could lose you. One moment you just stood there, and then you were gone, Tony. You weren’t just missing, you were _gone_. I’m allowed to be a little emotional.”

There were no words he could summon to that. No sympathies he could offer. Tony had long known this. He’d known how fragile life was, recognized it over and over, but he knew knowledge couldn’t soften the blow. Humans wanted forever and there was none. There was only life. Hard, messy, but theirs.

Love didn’t always triumph. Love, when tested, wasn’t enough to beat the odds most of the time. And the way Steve held him let him know in no uncertain terms that he probably understood this better than anyone. Steve had lost more people in his young life than Tony could ever hope to understand.

“You have me for now,” he told him. “And I have you. That’s more than I ever dreamed I’d have.”

Steve exhaled heavily, his eyes closing. “It’s not enough. A lifetime with you is not enough.”

A long sigh rumbled through Tony’s body. He hugged Steve tighter but did not respond.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Steve told him after another long moment, and wrapped the heat blanket more tightly around his body. He leaned down to kiss Tony once more, and Tony stroked his cheek in return.

Even if they couldn’t have each other for always, they could at least have this for now. If borrowed time was all they had, Tony would make sure to enjoy every second.

 

* * *

 

Over the next hour, phone calls were made, arrangements and appointments were set. Tony was brought to a secluded area, where he got a rudimentary first check-up, and was hooked on a bag of saline solution. He could see the others huddled outside, all strength obviously having been left behind. Natasha leaned against Clint, who leaned against Coulson, who only stared into the distance with an apathetic look. He wasn’t the only one looking exhausted, everyone did. The crazed Extremis subjects really had done a number on all of them. Clothes and uniforms were shredded, and some of the agents seemed to have sustained severe injuries, from what he could get from the SHIELD’s internal medical records that were updated every other second. The weight of the last days hadn’t truly sunk in until about twenty Quinjets landed up front—until a few dozen SHIELD medicals with white lab coats filed out to spread the cure Maya had prepared for them.

Bruce had lent him one of his stretch trousers. They were slightly too big around the waist and barely stayed on without him tucking them into place every other second, but no one said anything. Steve had given him his sweatshirt, a sense of protection whenever Steve had to leave his side to help with the injection process.

“Thank you,” Steve told Maya when she checked up on them at some point. “I know I didn’t exactly show it, but I am grateful that you were there when it counted.”

A smile rose to her lips and she shifted from one foot to the other. “After everything that happened, it was least I could do.”

“It was,” Steve agreed outright. “But you didn’t back off. You had a choice to give in to him, and you didn’t. You stood up, and you have my respect for that.”

Once the situation outside was mostly under control, Maya and Bruce rounded up on him like two kids in a toy store. They wouldn’t shut up about how well Extremis seemed to settle in his nervous system. They talked in length about his vitals, his blood count, and the brain waves they’d been able to measure so far. Once Tony had a bit more ground under his feet, he would certainly dive into research with the both of them. There was so much to do. So much to discover—so much to _unravel_. However, now, he was just in too deep, too overcome with the whole situation. He only wanted a moment of quiet.

He had a feeling that both he and Steve were going to need it.

Reluctantly, Tony agreed to go through another check-up at SHIELD once they’d arrived at the Triskelion. It was worth it, if only to appease Steve that he wouldn’t blow up at any second.

Steve helped him over to the Quinjet, not quite carrying him, but not far from it either. Apparently, JARVIS had already commanded the remaining suits to fly back to New York. Save for Mark Seven, who accompanied them. It always stayed close to Tony, never more than a few meters away, like JARVIS wanted to personally ensure that he’d return home safely.

Once they stepped into the Quinjet, where the other Avengers plus Coulson, Rhodey, and two SHIELD agents already waited for them, Tony was met with the strangest thing he’d ever witnessed, and after all that had happened, that was definitely saying something.

At first, there was nothing for a long, uncomfortable minute. It seemed no one knew what to say. Then, the team slowly stepped forward, their eyes heavy with a sort of paternal emotion Tony had never once seen on any of them. He supposed the events had been shattering for them, too. Tony stood at arm’s length, and after an awkward stalemate, Clint was the first to embrace him in a long hug. He gave him this weird appraising look that Tony was sure he’d only ever seen him direct at Natasha, before he clapped his shoulder and gave him a firm nod. Natasha, well, at first she had only shared some amused jabs towards Tony’s new powers, before she walked up to him and pressed a little kiss to his cheek, which was… yeah, not what he’d expected from her by a long shot. Ever.

“You saved him,” she told him with a smile. “I owe you for that.”

Tony knew losing Steve would’ve broken her, too. It was likely as close to a thank you as he was ever gonna get with Natasha. And strangely, it was more than enough.

And here they were—the Avengers stared at him and he stared back. There were visible signs of suspense on their faces, but not the sort he would’ve expected once. Not distrust, or wariness, but something like open worry and curiosity. Also, whenever they thought he didn’t pay them any attention, there was this weird lingering respect in their eyes. It still confused the fuck out of him, sure, but also made him feel strangely warm.

It would take a bit more understanding, patience, and time for him to get used to the idea that these people were here for the long haul, but now he knew he would. He was struck with the epiphany that he truly wasn’t alone. A belief that sank deep—settled in firmly as a sense of belonging that he had never felt before.

These people were going to stay with him. Trust him. Fight for him. Not because Fury ordered them to—because they wanted to.

Over from where he stood next to Coulson and Rhodey, Steve was watching Tony being mauled with a little knowing smile. Tony could read a thousand things in his blue eyes. So he stood and simply looked back. Sometimes silence said just as much as words.

An hour later, they stepped into the Triskelion. The others filed in for debrief, while Steve and Tony were ushered into the medical facilities. Tony was given about twenty seconds to hug a teary-eyed Pepper, before he was hauled straight into the next laboratory by a bunch of scientists who looked like they were gonna wet themselves with joy. Tony stripped down and put on a new pair of boxer briefs, before he lay down on one of the examination tables. Maya took a few more blood samples, before Tony went through CT, MRI, and eventually allowed Bruce to scan his bones.

Steve, Rhodey and Pepper were by his side throughout the whole procedure, watching each of Bruce’s and Maya’s movements with an intense sort of scrutiny.

“You see this?” Bruce asked Maya after a while, staring at a full-body MRI. He turned around and showed the scan to Tony. “Your bones. There’s…” He was visibly searching for words. “I wouldn’t go so far to say they’re _hollow_ , but—”

“Yeah. It’s, uh, something like cavities,” Tony tried to explain, and felt a rush of excitement go through him. So it had worked. What about that. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but that particular feature had been more like a shot in the dark. A successful one, apparently.

He knew his eyes probably went black again as he reached out for the remaining suit in the hallway. He also felt the pulses of the other far-away armors, but the proximity to Mark Seven made it feel like he was grasping for a body part. No. It _was_ a body part. It was… “I can absorb the suits, I think,” he said, and glanced up at Steve. “Don’t freak out now?”

“ _Absorb?_ ” Pepper and Steve echoed simultaneously, while Rhodey only stared at him coolly with an _I don’t even want to know_ -expression. “What—”

They all heard the suit approach and took a step back. Then, Mark Seven rushed at him, and Jesus, was the suit in a bad shape, the paintjob was ruined, mostly, but what the Hell. He’d repair the damn thing after all. There was no fear anymore when, a second later, the metal all but vanished into his body without so much as a little rippling sound. No black holes, no falling. The suit settled into his body like it had belonged there the whole time.

“Well,” Tony said in wonder, lifting his arms to inspect them. “That was surprisingly easy.”

Around him, five pairs of eyes were staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and horror. Bruce was the first to shake the stupor off. “That was… it looked like it bled into your body.”

“It’s in your bones now, right? Can you push it out again?” Maya asked with a little excited hitch in her voice.

Steve swallowed, dazed. “We talked about this beforehand. He’s _not_ your guinea pig.”

She sighed. “Say Tony, didn’t you use to hate guys like him?”

He shrugged and pointed at Steve’s rear. “Not when they come with an ass like that.”

“Didn’t that hurt, man?” Rhodey asked and moved up a hand to carefully touch the skin of Tony’s chest.

“No. See—” Tony breathed. He closed his eyes, and a second later, he was encased in metal once more. “—it’s just there. With me.”

Rhodey rubbed his temples. “Genius just wasn’t enough for you, huh? Had to get your own superpower, too.”

“Yeah, I’m greedy like that.”

In many ways he didn’t feel different at all. He could feel the armor pulsing within him, warm, comforting. It was humming in his presence and he saw it for what it was now, he saw everything, and it was beautiful. The smallest things he’d ever noticed, every little detail was suddenly tangible—suddenly real, suddenly _his_. It was like living with his eyes open for the first time. There were no dark holes in the sky any longer, no wormholes. Only a blue horizon.

He was free.

“Will he always just drift off like that?” he heard Steve ask.

“Give him some time. It’s probably overwhelming. He doesn’t have it under control yet.”

Palpable frustration began to slip into Steve’s voice. “But he will?”

Tony’s eyes fluttered open at that. He grasped for Steve’s hand and kissed his palm. Then he laughed, as a burst of happiness surged through his worn body. He was truly free, no PTSD, no attacks, and his laughter was probably way too loud and too manic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“He will,” he assured Steve, and felt torn between a place where more words were needed and one where they would simply interfere with sensation.

 

* * *

 

It was early afternoon when they arrived in New York City. He awoke. Warm. Comforted. Swimming in a sea of blankets. His stomach growled, his eyes were blurry. At first he had no idea where he even was, but it didn’t matter. Somehow, nothing mattered. He knew Steve was by his side, and that was all he cared about at the moment. Warmth. Safety. The desperation he had known for days was now at an abrupt end. Traded for this. Traded for comfort above everything else.

It took a few minutes, but Tony’s muscles finally obeyed him and he leaned up, wincing with the ache. The Quinjet was quiet, the jets already off. The others were still on their seats, though, looking right at him, and no one made any movement to leave.

Through the span of his life, he was more than accustomed to waking up in strange places, with strange people, in strange situations. After all, the nineties had been nothing more than drinking and injecting his system with every narcotic the book had to offer. Still. Waking up with _six_ pairs of eyes trained on him was a little unsettling. He lost his concentration for a moment and immediately, his mind was bombarded with new images and information. Sensation beyond control was attacking him from all ends without refrain. It would certainly take some time to get used to this, but God, once he could get a handle on how to use Extremis, there would be almost no limit.

He could look over the written lines that built this world and delete them all, change a few, or create new ones all over. He could send waves through the universe with a flare of temper. He could do anything. Order. Chaos. Destruction. Victory. Defeat. Those were all things he now held in his hands. Of course, Tony knew that this kind of power, especially in human hands, often twisted into cruelty, and he knew he’d never fall for that. Not when he had Steve by his side to lead him in the right direction.

He blinked himself back to the presence and felt the exhaustion that still commanded his limbs. With his brain being connected directly to every communication system, sleep was extensively harder to find, and remained more of an on and off sensation.When they’d passed the last state line about half an hour ago, he’d already repaired his servers, got JARVIS re-uploaded, and Fury to tell him everything he cared to know about what would happen with AIM and Maya Hansen.

“I’m just saying, he isn’t even blinking. It’s scary as fuck.”

Tony watched Clint wave a hand right before his eyes through one of the Quinjet’s cameras. He himself sat motionless in his seat, black eyes staring into the distance. He connected to the speaker of the cockpit, and, _Doesn’t mean I can’t hear you, bird boy._

Clint jumped. Hard. Tony could feel Steve’s arm next to him tremble as he tried to stifle his laughter.

“You asked for it,” Natasha said coolly.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Stark, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“You didn’t sign anything,” Coulson offered.

Eventually, he gave the group a little smile and slowly rose to his feet. When he stepped out, the sky was heavy with clouds, and it was almost dark outside. Amidst it all, the tower was lit up with multicolored lights like a beacon.

God, he had completely forgotten about Christmas. Only now that he saw the bare pine tree inside their penthouse did he remember. All the other signs—the shops in Rose Hills, the lights in Port St. Lucie, the whole city’s luminosity—all that had escaped him until just now. He had missed Christmas. Of course, he’d repeatedly told Steve he didn’t give a fuck about the Holidays, but Steve did, and he’d wanted to make it special for him.

“It’s okay,” Steve said beside him. He must’ve followed his gaze. “We talked about it while you slept. We’re still gonna hang up the decoration. We’ll have eggnog tonight, watch a few Christmas movies, cook dinner, what do you think?”

Tony smiled, and looked down. “I stopped drinking. Which you know, of course, but yeah… I—I stopped drinking. No eggnog for me.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, and then he pulled him into a fierce hug. “Hot chocolate then, or anything else. Anything you want. God, I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

A strange sense of tranquility overwhelmed him the minute they stepped into the soft sanctuary of the penthouse. He knew the place was his, he built it, partly with his own hands, and very much with his own mind. There was his bed in the next room, his belongings scattered across the floor, and the scent of Steve and him lingering in the air. It was home.

Not just the building. His team as well, he knew that now. Without them, he wouldn’t be here, he was sure of that. They’d risked their lives for him and he would never be able to make it up to them.

Of course, it wasn’t about making amends. Not with friends. Friendship used to be beyond him. A few months ago, they were just acquaintances. Soldiers, spies, scientists. But not friends.

Now, though, the weight of their presence surrounding him felt like coming home.


	9. All The Difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, guys, this is the last regular chapter! There will be a little epilogue, though (:  
> Hope you all liked the story so far, thanks to everyone for every single comment and kudo, it means the world to me <3  
> As always, thanks to the amazing morphia for beta-reading! And now, have a little fluff after all the dramatics of the last chaps :>

**Steve**

 

The fact that Tony was now able to control every single technological device in the world without so much as moving a finger was bound to be… an interesting experience. To drag an almost unconscious Tony into a high-tech shower under these circumstances wasn’t as funny as it sounded, though.

The smoke still clinging to Tony’s body dissipated quickly enough, as Steve’s soap-slick fingers slipped over his skin, replacing it with the earthy fragrance of Tony’s shower gel. In a way, this felt a bit like a ritual of rebirth. Like Tony was baptizing himself into this strange new life, and he wanted Steve there to hold him as hot water washed away the pain and hurt of the past days.

“I feel like I’ve been asleep for days,” Tony murmured. “But nothing’s changed. Except me.”

“You’re still you.”

A bitter light filled Tony’s eyes.

“You are,” Steve said firmly, massaging shampoo into Tony’s scalp. He closed his eyes in bliss while murmurs of encouragement escaped his throat.

Somehow, Steve was still expecting to wake up. Waiting for the fairy-tale to end, for the inevitable shoe to drop. Waiting to open his eyes and find that he was still on the Roxxon Norco, looking down on Tony’s lifeless, broken body bathed in the aftermath of war.

He shouldn’t be alive. Shouldn’t be with him.

And yet, Tony was here. Trembling in his arms. And Steve loved him so much.

“Stop it,” Tony said softly, squeezing one of his hands.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like I’m gonna disappear any second.”

Steve released a deep breath, as he watched the dirt dance around the drain. “Sorry,” he said, somehow ashamed at the tremble in his voice.

He saw the corner of Tony’s mouth lift in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

_Too close. Too close. Too close._

“I know.”

He released Tony’s hand and wrapped an arm around his waist, his fingers moving over Tony’s chest, softly massaging the skin around the arc reactor. The skin that had been bloodied and broken only hours ago.

He felt Tony’s skin heat with every touch. Felt wetness at his chest that didn’t come from the water at all. Felt Tony cling to him as though he needed proof of his own tangibility.

He stood beneath the spray of the shower, which kept on rhythmically turning on and off—as did the side jets, the lights, and the music. For the past ten minutes, every single advanced function of the shower had gone haywire. He had no idea if Tony was doing it on purpose, or if he even noticed right now. At this point, Steve was only glad that a year ago he’d talked Tony out of the various steam and mood lighting options he’d originally wanted to implement in the shower. Listening to a continuous loop of some AC/DC song with a pause between every other line was annoying enough.

“Please, baby, can’t you stop doing that?” Steve tried again, but Tony’s eyes were now pitch black and staring into the distance, and he only shook his head slowly with a dreamy mixture of exhaustion and arousal, as Steve’s hands worked over his body.

Tony’s gaze was still glossed over as it moved upwards a few moments later, almost reluctantly, to look at Steve. There was a look on his face that, despite the slightly distracted notion, flushed Steve’s cheeks with heat. His body burned for Tony’s, now that he finally had him all for himself. Steve shook his head to clear it, laving Tony’s skin carefully before starting on a swirling descent down his pubic bones through the bubbles. His palm cautiously cupped Tony’s balls, and wandered up to his cock. Tony moaned low in his throat, tipping his head back until it made contact with the wall.

“It’s like you were drunk,” Steve said with another little shake of his head.

Tony licked his lips but didn’t open his eyes. “Not drunk… _amazed_.”

“Can’t you be amazed without messing with the music, or the lights, or—” The water stopped. Again. “Goddamn, Tony, if you want me to wash you, turn it back on now.”

The spray started again.

With a sigh, Steve moved his hands back upwards to circle Tony’s pecks, first tracing the outlines of the arc reactor with an almost feather-light touch and then moving in ever-narrowing spirals until he rolled he hardened nipples with his fingers. Tony’s back arched and he let out a drawn-out moan, the sound of it mingling with the steam curling in the air around them.

Despite what Steve had said, Tony’s body _did_ feel different. As an engineer, his skin had known its fair share of abuse, had been the evidence for all his hard work. There had been all these little cuts on his arms, hands and chest, and they were all gone now. His skin still had its olive tone, but was somewhat pinker than Steve remembered. Every muscle seemed just a bit more defined, the texture of his skin almost baby smooth and untouched. There were still a few crinkles on his face, but he looked younger, somehow.

Still. It didn’t matter. All of this was only proof that last night had really happened. That Tony was alive. _Alive_. And Steve would get used to this. He would take his time and reacquaint himself with this new body, would fall in love with every inch of new skin all over again.

The music once more paused for a second, before it continued. Tony blinked and looked up at him imploringly. His eyes locked with his and… still… there was a distance there, like Tony was—

“I’m everywhere, Steve. _Everywhere_. _At once_. I could design a whole suit right now, I could… cause a blackout in the Hellicarrier, hell, in the whole country. I could… I could make a satellite turn by thinking about it. I could—”

“You could turn around so I can wash your back,” Steve said quietly, and grabbed Tony’s waist to carefully push his front against the wall.

Tony blinked again and this time, when he looked over his shoulder, his eyes were brown again, and his gaze a bit more focused. “Am I too much?” he asked.

“No,” Steve said truthfully.

“You really think I’m gonna turn evil now, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t. Even if Extremis _did_ enhance the present qualities of a human being, you’re a good man. You’d never turn evil. You’d…” He sighed again as he saw Tony’s eyes turning inward again. “You’d just be distracted all the time.”

He bent down to plant a few moist kisses along the column of Tony’s back, and Tony tipped his head to grant him better access. Steve licked at the water on his skin, letting his tongue trace the lines on his skin where he remembered a few scars and marks had been before. Tony murmured his name, until he shuddered and not-so-subtly pressed his ass into Steve’s erection. Tony’s fingers were slowly trailing up and down the length of his own cock, which was dripping with shower water. He stopped to favor his sac with a squeeze, before his fingers slid down, down until he was teasing his hole.

It was then that he opened his eyes again, and he watched Steve’s hands sweep lower, spreading bubbles over his sides, his back, not missing an inch of flesh. He finished coating Tony’s entire body in bubbles, and then pulled his hands away to hold them beneath the shower’s spray. Tony whined in protest, and leaned back until Steve’s hands returned, retracing their path, slowly rinsing away the lather and rubbing at his skin.

“Am I too much?” he repeated again, but his eyes had already turned black once more.

“No,” Steve said and kissed his cheek. “Come on, let’s get dressed. The others are waiting downstairs for us.”

As he pulled Tony out of the shower and into a big towel, he knew he would be content to spend the rest of his life just being with Tony like this. _Even like this_ , when Tony was barely here at all. After the last days, he knew he’d take anything Tony decided to give him, because the fear refused to die, that if he let Tony out of his sight, if he allowed sleep to grasp him, all of this would be over. It was probably not a healthy attitude, but right now, it was enough. To have his own skin saturated in Tony’s essence. It was enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Walking through the hallways of Avengers Tower overwhelmed Steve in a manner of the greatest homecoming he had ever known. Through everything: through the blood he had lost, the blood he had spilt, the tears he had shed, this journey and its conclusion would remain with him for a long time.

Steve took the stairs to the penthouse with careful, measured steps. He turned corners that led him through the setting of their home. When he arrived at the living room, he smiled broadly at the scene in front of him. For long minutes, he just stood in the doorway, arms crossed, and simply watched. Natasha and Clint were sleeping on one of the couches, limbs entangled, and Bruce had fallen asleep on the huge armchair next to them.

Tony was sleeping rather soundly on the big round loveseat, curled on one side, his hand resting in the place where Steve had set only a few minutes ago as though lamenting his absence. A blanket was pulled around his hip; barely guarding the boxer shorts he’d changed into after their little post-Christmas dinner.

After the excitement had died down, it had taken a long time for Tony’s nerves to give him a break and allow an escape for even a catnap, much less a few undisturbed hours of rest.

Steve had seen Tony overwrought with tension and unused energy before, but never quite like this. When he did drift off, he wasn’t able to remain comfortable enough for anything productive to come of it. While the others had prepared dinner, Steve had held Tony, massaged his tensed body with calming hands, and even tried to lull him with the soothing notes of his voice. He made it through a recitation of Count Your Blessings four times before Tony finally nodded off, only to awake ten minutes later with an unsteady gasp.

He’d kept insisting that rest was something he had to take in spades now, considering what he could do, what he could create with Extremis.

Well. Apparently, that resolution had only lasted through the first half hour of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ , which was still playing on the television. Obviously, Steve shouldn’t have bothered to take the considerate route, when all it had taken was this.

He went to turn the television off, then leaned down beside Tony and pressed a small, chaste kiss against his lips. Tony stirred, but didn’t wake. So Steve went to put a blanket over Clint and Natasha, and another over Bruce’s sleeping form, before he pulled Tony in his arms and walked them over into their bedroom.

He disrobed methodically, folding his clothes over one of the lounge chairs in their bedroom. When he lay down on the bed, he pulled off Tony’s boxers and drew him tightly against his chest, entwining their legs, until there wasn’t an inch between them.

When a groan drifted from next to Steve, the sun was already rising outside. Tony was beside him, nude, and sleeping, his form illuminated by the light of the arc reactor. The rise of his chest was very steady. Steve had no idea what time it was, nor did he particularly care. Tony stretched, a hand unwittingly brushing across his face. His dark hair was ruffled and wild with sleep.

The skin stretching over his chest and stomach was mostly hairless. There were only soft wisps that formed under his belly, trailing beneath the blankets. Steve couldn’t help it. He laid a hand on Tony’s chest, and played absently with a dusky nipple before he started on a gentle slide southward, drawing mindless patterns across the smooth skin. Carefully, he rounded the arc reactor. There was only smooth skin surrounding the perfect round casing. Steve realized then that Tony’s breaths were noticeably deeper, like the hole in his chest somehow didn’t have such an impact on him anymore.

One more of those things he’d have to ask Tony once things settled down.

Steve leaned in closer. His mouth trailed feather-light kisses along Tony’s shoulder. He was both soft and firm underneath him, and Steve needed to discover, needed to relearn every part of him. His soft kisses slowly turned into harder, needier explorations. His teeth skimmed the column of his throat and wandered down the slope of his shoulders before trailing over his chest.

At last, Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled off the covers in one motion and leaned over Tony. His mouth found his nipple again, and he brushed a soft lick on the nub before savoring it completely. At the same time, his fingers playfully wove through the coarse hair leading to Tony’s cock before he closed his hand around him. He was soft under his touch, but it didn’t take long before his length hardened. Steve’s thumb brushed the tip, and the movement shot shivers through Tony’s body.

“Steve…”

“Shh. Don’t say anything,” he whispered against Tony’s skin, tightening his grip on his cock. “Just let me have this.”

His hand pumped and squeezed, loving him base to tip. This, for one, was something that hadn’t changed at all.

Tony leaned up on his elbows, and then his lips were hot on his neck, dotting his skin with simple kisses. “Mmm,” he breathed, and Steve turned his gaze away from where he’d watched the movements of his hand. Tony slowly blinked himself to consciousness, then smiled up at him. “You make the best wake-up calls,” he murmured and exhaled a soft moan, as Steve put his whole palm around his cock. “How long was I out?”

“About five hours.”

Tony nodded, staring up the ceiling. He bucked his cock into Steve’s hand, his fingers restlessly moving over the bed sheets. “This feels so strange.”

Steve frowned, and stopped his movements.

There was a short pause. Tony blinked, and first stared at Steve, then down at himself, where Steve’s hand hovered indecisively over his cock. He shook his head vehemently. “No. Not that. _That_ is amazing, that is _always_ amazing, Steve, just…” He held up his hands at Steve, inspecting the smooth skin there. “I feel so strange.”

“My fault,” Steve said, his voice empty. “Should’ve been faster…”

Tony leaned back to look him in the eyes. “No. No, Steve, it wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault.” Tony’s thumb tenderly stroked his cheek, pulling him out of his reverie. “Well, except Aldrich Killian’s. It was his fault and no one else’s,” he whispered, and smiled at him. His hip bucked upwards again, and into Steve’s open palm. He chuckled warmly, at Steve’s dumbfound look, though it died on a gasp as his body arched into Steve’s touch.

“God, I need you,” Tony gasped after a few firm strokes, his voice strained and his breaths coming harder now. He kicked the rest of the covers down with both feet and pulled Steve on top of him. “Come on, get inside me.”

“So impatient,” Steve chuckled. “See? You’re all the same.”

“Well. This is about _you_. That’s something that won’t ever change. I will never get tired of this, never get enough. If it was up to me, I would stay here, with you, forever. I would take you apart, put you back together, and start all over again, day after day, until you knew nothing aside the feel of my hands on you.”

Steve groaned. “Is that supposed to intimidate me?”

“It would most people.”

His hand moved before his mind could okay the action, settling over Tony’s with gentle understanding. “I am not most people.”

“I know,” he replied, the smile on his face growing. “You’re just as debauched as I am. That’s what makes this so perfect.”

Tony smiled, and leaned sideways to open their nightstand and grab for the lube. He positioned his knees on each side of Steve’s hip and guided his hand behind himself. There was no way any person could look into those brown depths without losing his footing for at least a moment.

Tony’s fingers trailed between them, sliding over his cock for a moment, before settling on his entrance, teasing the rim. “Need to feel you,” he murmured, a fingertip slipping inside and—

“No, wait,” Steve breathed. “I don’t want…”

Tony blinked and looked up at him. “You don’t want?” he asked with a frown. “I thought—”

“I _want_. I’d just like to… I…” Steve sighed, irritated with himself. This shouldn’t be hard. Tony loved him. He shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for this. Gently, he grasped for Tony’s wrist and guided his hand behind himself. “I’d like to have you. In me, this time. I mean—if you even want that.”

There was a pregnant pause, and when Steve looked up again, Tony was looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “You… if _I_ even want?” Tony laughed. “Fuck, Steve, I didn’t think _you’d_ want. You never said anything. You’ll let me… yeah, _yeah,_ of course I want that. I just didn’t know you’d… Wow. Okay.”

Steve felt his cheeks burning a little. “I tried to hint…”

Tony snorted, and rubbed Steve’s slightly trembling arms adoringly. “It’s me, babe. Subtlety isn’t exactly my area of expertise. Next time, just push your lovely ass in my direction, yeah?”

Steve laughed a little self-consciously. “Yeah…”

“Did you, uh… did you always want it this way around?”

“What?” Steve asked, taken aback. “No, god, I loved— _love_ —everything we do. I just… I’ve never, uh, done it, like that, and I’m just…”

“Curious. Yeah, got it. Come on, lie down on your stomach. It’s a bit easier that way.”

Steve furrowed his brows. “I’d like to see you.”

Tony smiled, and palmed his own cock. “And you will, love. We can switch position once you’re ready.”

Steve nodded and crawled up the bed. It was rather empowering—presenting himself like that while Tony stroked himself. His eyes were cast downwards, as he seized up Steve’s ass.

“Stuff the pillow under your hip,” Tony ordered with a tremor in his voice and once more reached for the lube. Then there was a hand on Steve’s lower back, as Tony caressed him with his palm.

“I’ll start slow,” he said, as a little smile crept up his face. When Steve nodded at him, Tony swept a fingertip over his entrance. Steve bit back a groan, forgetting whatever he’d planned to say further in favor of losing himself to the sensation. Tony obviously knew how to touch him there, it showed in the way he was pressing, swirling, until Steve’s legs trembled and every nerve in his body came alight. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from automatically clenching his inner muscles tightly, as Tony eventually inserted a first finger.

Tony stopped his movement. “Don’t clench. Open up. Breathe through it.”

The short commands helped somewhat, and Steve released a shaky breath. After a few seconds, Tony pushed the digit further. Steve flattened his palms against the mattress, arching his back, spreading his legs more and lifting up on shaking arms, gasping as Tony’s finger slowly drew out again.

“Beautiful,” Tony breathed, as his finger slid into him again, and then he started to move in quick, shallow thrusts that somehow struck him just right. As the second finger entered him a few minutes later, Steve cried out at the intrusion and involuntarily clenched around them again, squeezing hard, his muscles already fluttering in warning.

“God, but you’re sensitive,” Tony marveled. “You can come like that, huh? Won’t even have to touch your cock.”

Steve gasped against the pillow. “Maybe… the serum…”

“Yeah,” Tony answered with a hoarse voice. “Maybe…”

Slowly, Tony etched a third finger into him and this time, Christ, _this time_ he hit a spot that had ecstasy rip through his entire body. His chest rose and fell in quick, trembling breaths, as his fingers clasped tightly around the large headboard of their bed. He curled his toes as heat began to coil tighter and tighter through his belly with every stroke of Tony’s fingers. God, he couldn’t move anymore. He was held in place by the pleasure Tony inflicted on his body, and he was thrusting hard now, his fingers rhythmically slamming into Steve’s ass.

He braced himself, wrists burning, legs shaking from the strain but it felt so good, he was so close, and then Tony suddenly etched his erection between Steve’s thighs. It lined up with his cock and Tony started to rut against him, and _oh God_ , he couldn’t, he was…

“Uh, God—” Steve groaned. He thrust himself against Tony’s erection without shame, getting as much friction out of the contact as he possibly could. “Yes,” he hissed in pleasure. “Yes, _there_.” A deep moan started in his belly, tearing through his chest to a desperate, ragged climax. Come was spurting out on the bed sheet beneath him, as Steve panted into open air, the muscles in his arms contradicting as his fingers dug firmly into the wood of the headboard. Steve felt himself crash, and something splintered as he lost his grip, his entire body shaking as the waves of his orgasm surged through him. He shouted his pleasure into the silence of the penthouse.

Finally, his knees gave out, but strong arms caught him around the waist, holding him tightly. Tony’s cock was still rock hard and buried in the wetness between Steve’s thighs. His chest heaved against him, the arc reactor somewhat digging into his skin, but God, he didn’t care. He was desperately trying to pull air into his lungs but was held back by the shuddering aftershocks and Tony’s cock gliding in slow, rolling thrusts.

“Holy Shit,” Tony breathed after a moment of silence. Steve looked up and yeah, he’d shattered the left part of headboard to pieces—he’d felt the wood giving in beneath his grip—but God, how should he find it in himself to care, when he was still about to white out from the pleasure.

Tony’s breaths turned into a disbelieving laugh. “We _really_ should’ve done that sooner. God, Steve, that was…” He laughed even louder when Steve looked at him over his shoulder. And in that moment, there was no doubt that Tony’s mind was right here with him, and nowhere else.

Tony’s gaze turned softer. “That was beautiful.”

Steve felt himself smiling. “That was _amazing_. I’ve never…” He took a deep breath. “I want you in me now,” he whispered, needing to say it more than he needed to breathe.

“Seriously?” Tony said. “You’re still up for…” He looked down at Steve’s half hard cock and huffed. “Yeah, stupid question. God, I really, really love you. Turn around for me?”

He felt oddly vulnerable as he shoved the bed sheet aside, and lay down on his back while slowly pulling his knees upwards. It was stupid, of course. Tony had seen every inch of his body multiple times. Jesus, he’d just opened him up with his fingers; technically he’d already _had_ his first time on the, well… catching end, and still. He was allowing someone an insight to a side of himself he didn’t know and couldn’t really comprehend.

“We don’t have to do this now,” Tony said with a thoughtful frown. “We can take a step at a time or, you know, just… not do it. I don’t need us to switch places if you’re not comfortable—”

“I am,” Steve breathed. “I want this. I’m just… go slow, yeah?”

“Of course.” Tony leaned over him then, and positioned the head of his cock over Steve’s hole. “Breathe for me, yes? Just like before.”

Steve nodded, and forced himself to look down, as Tony slowly pushed forward. It felt good, fuller, but just as good. His nerves were already sensitive and the long glide of Tony’s cock felt like a stab of pure heat going through him.

“You’re doing so well. Almost there, love… Breathe.” Tony’s murmurs against his ear were soothing. He tried to stay quiet, but as Tony slammed the last inches home, a loud, disbelieving moan tumbled over his lips.

“Good?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine.”

Tony laughed. “Way to flatter a guy, Steve. I’m glad you’re holding up there.”

“Sorry, I… it feels good… _great_. I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”

Tony nodded, and bent down to kiss him. “I’m gonna move now,” he murmured. With that, he rested his brow against Steve’s, mixing whimpers and pants and nods of encouragement. When they began moving together, it was a perfect symphony. The feel of Tony’s cock inside him, touching nerves he’d never felt before, caressing him with loving hands and worshipping his mouth with his… it was sensory overload.

Tony’s breaths crashed against his lips. God, he felt so open, so vulnerable, and still so sheltered. And so completely Tony’s.

“It’s different than I imagined,” he whispered, and gasped when Tony tried to pull away from him. He arched off the bed instinctively, pulling him back.

“Good different?” Tony asked, driving into him a little rougher.

“Yeah.”

“Mmm… So you’ve imagined this.”

Steve nodded and leaned up to pressa needy kiss from his lips. “A lot.”

Tony grinned and sucked his lower lip between his teeth, a hand trailing down Steve’s side to hook under his knee. “Interesting,” he leered. “Did you finger yourself when I wasn’t around, Stevie?”

Steve glanced down to where they were joined, blushing but not looking away. “I might have tried it once or twice.”

Tony bit his lower lip. “Next time, let me join you,” he said with a devilish grin. “Or better yet…” He trailed off and leaned down to whisper directly into Steve’s ear, “let me telecommand a vibrator, stick it in your ass and fuck you with it while I fuck myself on your cock.”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or moan at that, so he did both. “Don’t those…” he gasped. “Don’t those run on batteries?”

Tony laughed with him. “ _Details_ , Steve. I’ll make something I can control with Extremis, and I’m gonna stick it into your lovely ass and have my wicked way with you.”

Steve snorted, and started to really shove back on Tony’s cock. The pace they set was slow but hard. Tony clasped Steve’s hands in his and spread his arms to the side as his body slammed into him with moans of feral possession. “You feel so good, baby. So _good_ ,” Tony groaned.

“You do, too,” he agreed with a long moan, clenching his muscles the way that always drove him rightly out of his mind whenever he’d been inside Tony. He wrapped his legs tight around Tony’s waist and cast his head back, as small sobs of pleasure rumbled through his lips. It was different from this end, but they found their rhythm soon enough. There was a new heated momentum behind Tony’s movements, and maybe it was Extremis pulsing through his cells, Steve couldn’t honestly be sure. It didn’t matter. This was Tony, too. All of this was Tony. They battled and conceded, then turned around and conquered. Every time Tony pulled away, Steve lifted his hips to try and recapture him. Above him, Tony moaned his pleasure, and the sounds he made were addictive.

Everything about Tony was addictive.

Steve felt himself growing looser with each plunge, and every movement made it even more difficult to hold onto any sort of control. Tony’s thrusts became deeper, more frantic, and he looked so lost in the sensation that Steve couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to brush strands of dampened hair from Tony’s closed eyes.

“You with me?” Steve asked.

A knowing smile reached Tony’s lips. “Will you ask me that every time I close my eyes from now on?”

Steve’s expression softened. “No,” he replied, and began to move with Tony again. “Sorry.”

A knowing smirk crossed his face. “You may rest assured that… every time I fuck you I’m a hundred percent here.”

Steve tried to glare at Tony while he valiantly kept on fighting back orgasm. “That’s good to know, Tony, really.”

“I know, right?” Tony replied through his teeth, hands going to either side of Steve’s head, palms pressed into the mattress as his thrusts grew quicker still. “I may even try to stick around during blowjobs… oh, _fuck_. God, Steve, this is amazing.”

Steve’s hands flew to his forearms, digging his nails into his skin, which only encouraged his thrusts to grow even deeper and faster.

Tony smiled down at him with open, brown eyes. “When I’m with you,” he said. “I’m with you. Always. I promise.”

“Okay.” He nodded, stealing a hot, needy kiss from Tony’s lips. “Love you. So much.”

“Love you,” Tony agreed. His left arm collapsed onto his elbow, his other hand traveling the expanse of Steve’s body to firmly wrap around his cock. And then he was jerking him off, quick, hard, and in perfect sync to his thrusts. There was something hauntingly beautiful about Tony when he was in control like this. He gasped above him, his mouth dipping to capture a nipple between his teeth. There was a burning in his eyes as he looked up at him that Steve had never seen on him before. His control was slipping, though, the desire to pound into Steve clearly overcoming the accuracy of his thrusts. His balls slapped Steve’s ass with every move, rasping grunts tearing through his lips. “God, Steve, I can’t hold back much longer. Come for me. _Come on_ ,” he groaned against his chest.

It was probably a little bit embarrassing that the moment Tony’s words registered with him, he didn’t hesitate so much as a second. A moment ago, he’d held on to the edge, and then he came, hard and uncontrolled. He dug his fingers into Tony’s biceps and trembled, his muscles tightened and clenched, squeezing Tony with a need he barely recognized. He smashed his hips down and took Tony as far inside as their bodies would allow. A hoarse, thankful sob tumbled through his throat, as Tony slammed home one last time, before he spilled hotly inside of him.

Minutes later, Steve felt Tony brush warm kisses across the skin of his shoulders.

“You all right?”

What a silly question.

“I’m perfect.”

Tony met his eyes with amusement. “I’d say so.” He snorted. “And you came on command. Just like a good lil’ soldier.”

Steve perked a brow, panting softly. “You know what? Next time, I’m just gonna pull off and leave you hanging.”

Tony grinned, and kissed him deeply. “This was great. You were… really really great.” Then he chuckled, and carefully pulled out. “ _Thank you_ ,” he said with a wink.

Steve laughed and turned them both around, looming over Tony. “You’re very welcome.”

“I should hope so. I was planning to come by very often.”

Steve snorted. “God this is so bad.”

“You love it.” It was no question. Tony’s voice was full of conviction.

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “And I love _you_. Forever. For our forever, at least.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment. “For better or worse, huh?” he asked, his voice slow and his tone oddly cautious.

Steve snorted, thinking back on the last few days. “You could say that.”

Tony turned quiet for a moment, staring up at him in deep thought. “Okay, let’s see…” he started with a measured tone. “We’ve already covered the ‘in sickness and in health’ part. As for the ‘richer or poorer’ bit, there really needs to be a severity clause for billionaires, wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

Steve glanced down at him, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“‘To love and to cherish’, well,” he glanced down at the come sticking on both of their chests, and grinned mischievously, as he wiped it off with the cover. “Pretty sure we’re doing extremely well in that department. And ‘through tears and laughter’: we sure as Hell had our share of both.”

Steve swallowed, his mind lost to a haze, as he realized where Tony was going with this. “Tony, are you—”

Tony cleared his throat, not quite meeting his eyes anymore. “Sooner or later, and I’m sure you’re aware of that now, it’s gonna come down to the ‘til death’ part, but that’s life, right? And _I_ want to spend the rest of mine with _you_. So, seeing as we’ve already covered the whole shtick, and… I don’t have a ring, Steve, but…” Tony was bravely raising his eyes at him, his gaze bathing Steve in wonder. “Yeah. If you’ll have me.”

“Tony…” Steve started, completely baffled, and then, since this was how their life went, the remains of the headboard fell down on the back of his head. _Literally fell down on him_. It took a second for him to regain control, before he pushed the board away and off to the floor. Slowly, their eyes met.

Then Tony started laughing. Loudly.

“Stop it,” Steve grunted, picking up a few splinters from his chest. “It’s not funny.”

That didn’t seem to help much. Tony’s amusement intensified and his hands dropped to his sides, as his naked body trembled with the impact of his laughter. He made several attempts to recollect control but only ended up laughing harder.

“Oh, now you’re just asking for it,” Steve said and jumped up, seizing Tony by the wrist and drawing him into his lap. Tony squirmed in a poor attempt to escape, only to provoke a tighter hold on his body. “Thought you didn’t want to wrestle with me anymore.”

“You…” Tony started with a hiccup, as Steve mercilessly tickled his sides. “You broke the _bed_.”

Steve glared at him for a long moment before allowing a hint of a grin to cross his lips. “I noticed that,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over the trembling nape of Tony’s throat. “Completely worth it.”

“I like that side of you,” Tony said with a last hiccup, before snuggling against him.

A grin tickled Steve’s lips as he turned them both around once more, and gently raised his hands to caress Tony’s back. Tony hummed contentedly and stretched fully on top of him, their soft cocks lazily brushing against one another. Tony ran a hand across Steve’s face and smiled when Steve leaned into his touch. “So,” he started. “Does that all translate into a giant Yes, or was this an elaborate way to distract me?”

Steve held his gaze, searching. “You’re serious?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m serious. I wouldn’t joke about that, and I’m playing for keeps here, Rogers. Sure, I might’ve never… been crazy about the whole matrimony thing, but with you, it doesn’t even seem like much of a big deal, you know? As I said, we’ve already covered all the bases.”

“Then why marry?” Steve asked with a little smile.

Tony’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Because it’s a grand gesture of love? Is this you telling me no?”

“No, it’s…” Steve took a deep breath. “I just don’t want you to feel obligated. This is enough for me, Tony. This is perfect. I don’t want you to force yourself into something you don’t really want just because you think you have to prove your love to me.”

Tony leaned forward and kissed him gently. “You’re right, of course,” he conceded. “I admit I never gave this much thought before. I was convinced I’d die a bachelor, and marriage seemed kind of redundant, you know? If you love someone, you don’t need marriage. But, you see, the things is…” He grinned crookedly, “…now that I know you’ll be willing to take it in the ass from time to time, I figure there’s simply no better catch ahead for me.”

Steve barked a laugh at that. “God knows where we’d be now if I’d let you top from the start.”

Tony grinned wickedly and leaned down to gently bite into Steve’s lower lip.

And then, because Tony’s jesting aside, he clearly was serious about this, Steve’s heart started to pound in earnest. His pulse raced. His knees trembled, and from the soft look on Tony’s face, he probably felt it all.

And Steve was sure, with a deep, unyielding clarity, that their life was going to be like this every day until their end. There would be moments full of love, of heat, harsh arguments and great make-up sex, tears and laughter, violence and love. They were not normal, not by a long shot, but they were unconventional on their best days. And this was the only form of normality Steve ever wanted to know from now on.

“Starting to feel a little rejected here, Stevie,” Tony said, but his eyes shone with amusement. “I love you. I want to marry you. Say yes.”

Steve held his gazefor a long minute, then he leaned in to first kiss Tony’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. He wrapped his arms around the man he loved, stealing kisses and caresses, holding onto him in defiance to a world that tried so hard to separate them.

“Yes,” he whispered against Tony’s lips. “Of course I’ll marry you. I was gone the first time I saw you at the Expo. The first time I opened your file.”

Tony huffed a disbelieving breath. “Cut the crap, Steve. You _repeatedly_ told me how much of an arrogant bastard you took me for in the beginning.”

Steve shook his head, and cupped Tony’s cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You still don’t understand, do you? It never mattered. As much as I convinced myself that you weren’t a good man, as much as I thought we’d never see eye-to-eye, you were the only thing in this world that had the power to reach me back then. To make me accept what had happened and to look forward. I was so lost, Tony. Angry at the world, angry at myself, angry at everything that had changed while I wasn’t there to live it. I had Natasha, and Clint, and they kept me together as much as they could, kept me sane and anchored, but you… _you_ were the one thing that gave me a reason not only to live, but to push hard at my boundaries, and to really see the world as it is, all the ugly and the beautiful parts. I opened your file and I was gone, Tony.”

The look that stormed Tony’s brown eyes was one Steve would never forget. He looked at him like Steve was the embodiment of everything precious in the world—everything he’d been without for so long. Everything his life had denied him until now. Tony’s eyes watered. Then he groaned and swallowed him in a fiery kiss. “I’ll give you everything I have,” he rasped, his eyes blazing. “ _Everything_.”

Steve smiled into his eyes. “You already did.”

How two imperfect beings could be so perfect for each other, he would never know. They had both emerged from opposite sides of this world. A poor kid from Brooklyn, and a billionaire’s boy. One born in the 40s, one living in the future in every sense of the word. But now they were here, together, and this was it. The prize at the end of the long road Steve had traveled. Through all the pain, all the loss, it was worth everything. Tony was in his arms, at his side, and that was all he needed.

It had been all along.


	10. Epilogue

**Tony**

 

Tony took pride in the fact that he could _always_ do his bow ties himself. The movement came naturally to him. He’d learned it early, and perfected it over the years, so that even in his worst conditions, he’d always been able to make a perfect tie. He could drunk-tie, sick-tie, nervous-tie, angry-tie, you name it. Also, contrary to what Pepper, Happy, Rhodey and every other guest seemed to expect of him today, he was far from being a nervous, nail-biting mess. He didn’t get cold feet. He didn’t know _what_ he’d expected, but even the utter normalcy and calmness of this day didn’t throw him off at all. It was quiet. Peaceful. He didn’t have any worries, no doubts were creeping in the back of his mind. He wasn’t second-guessing, he had actually never been surer about anything in his whole life.

He wasn’t second-guessing Steve, either. To say Steve was a sure thing sounded somewhat arrogant, but amazingly, that’s how it felt. Steve loved him, the proof of it was there in his eyes every time he looked at Tony. So if there was one thing Tony was completely and irrevocably certain about, then it was that Steve would stand at the start of the aisle in ten minutes, come Heaven or Hell, and wait there to marry him.

So yeah, even on his wedding day, Tony was very much capable of tying the bow tie himself, thank you very much. Saying that— _repeatedly_ —hadn’t stopped Pepper and Rhodey from checking up on him six times in the last hour, though.

Tony was just about to cross both ends of the ribbon, when the door opened again. He looked in the mirror with an amused snort, but this time, it wasn’t either of the two. To his surprise it was Natasha, who silently slid into the room. She looked around for a moment, before her eyes settled on him. She slowly sat down on one of the chairs behind Tony, crossing her legs in a movement that looked way too complicated for someone to do it so seamlessly.

And _Jesus_ , it was good that there was no bride around today. It would’ve been absolutely impossible to compete with Natasha this evening. Her long black dress fit perfectly, flattering every curve. Her curly hair was styled into a straight line, and her lips were painted in a deep cherry-red. She looked stunning.

“You look stunning,” Tony said, then, because what the Hell, it was his wedding day. Might as well share the love.

After a beat, the corner of Natasha’s mouth ticked upwards. “Not so bad yourself.”

“Mmm,” Tony murmured, giving himself a look over in the mirror. He was wearing a simple black tux with a dark blue waistband and a matching bow tie. Steve had designed Tony’s golden cufflinks himself, and had secretly forged them with JARVIS’ help, knowing Tony well enough that he knew Tony would refuse to even look at Howard’s old collection.

And Steve’s cufflinks? Well… A little over two months ago, Tony had managed to track down an old pair in the World War Two museum in New Orleans, before it could be shipped to the new Captain America Exhibit in the Smithsonian. There were three letters engraved in the metal: J-B-B. He’d tracked them down, and after some heavy efforts at persuasion from him and Pepper, the curator had let him buy the pair for a ridiculously high amount of money. It was all worth it. And he’d never forget the look in Steve’s eyes as he’d realized to whom the cufflinks had once belonged to.

Natasha cocked her head at him. “Steve is wearing his dress uniform. You’ll cry when you see him.”

That earned a little laugh. “I’ll bet.”

Honestly, he had never seen Steve in full regalia, and he didn’t know if he would even manage the walk down the aisle with him by his side.

A beat of silence. “There’s something we have to talk about,” Natasha said.

Tony considered her. He’d figured as much, he just wasn’t sure what about. She didn’t look too serious, so it probably wasn’t another apocalypse. She looked contemplative maybe, a hint of protective, and—

Oh.

 _Right_.

“Now?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. “Isn’t it a little late for that? Like eleven and a half months too late? Or, you know, in hindsight, I would’ve expected you to somehow manage to give me a shovel talk while Steve was still on the mission.”

Natasha quirked a little smile at that. “I’m not here to give you the talk.”

“Oh, good. That’s good. ‘Cause, honestly, I’m not sure if your idea of a shovel talk would leave me in a condition to marry today… much less perform my marital duties on the wedding night.”

Natasha snorted and looked at him with open amusement that Tony only rarely got to see on her. “That would’ve depended on your answers.”

Tony smirked. “Of course.” With a few practiced movements, he formed a simple, perfect bow tie, and gave it a few light tugs, until it sat perfectly around his neck.

“So if you aren’t threatening to remove my balls if I fuck this up—to what do I owe this last-minute pleasure?”

“I just wanted to thank you.”

“You—huh.” Tony frowned. “Really? What for?”

“For loving him.”

Tony glanced up again, meeting her eyes in confusion. “Easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Natasha smiled kindly. “I know that’s not true.” She stood up to get his tux and held it up so Tony could slip his arms inside. “Falling for Steve is easy. I see that. But that you kept on loving him after… you found out. What he did. I was genuinely surprised about that. I hadn’t thought it possible that someone could just…” She trailed off, and for a second she almost seemed to be lost in some distant memory. “It’s not… exactly commonplace that someone forgives us for deceiving them, just like that.”

Tony stood still for a moment, pondering his next words very carefully. “‘Just like that’ is pushing it a little. Not like I didn’t think about dropping him. I very nearly convinced myself it was my only choice after what he did. But he fought for me, you know. As angry as I was I could see how much the guilt was killing him. So I took a leap of faith and I… haven’t regretted it since. So… all in all, easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

It was true. There was no simpler happiness than loving Steve. And as long as he had him, had this, he would not need anything else.

Natasha smiled, and for a blink of the eye, she almost looked teary-eyed. Then, she suddenly leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good man, Tony Stark,” she observed, caressing his cheek with a thumb. “Steve is lucky to have you. He loves you very much.”

He tried not to let it show how dumbstruck her words left him, and instead opted for a small smile. “Yes, he does,” he agreed softly.

She looked him up and down, giving his appearance small, satisfied nod. “You really are that calm, aren’t you? It’s not an act. You know everyone kinda expects you to lose it today… or to make a run for it. There are a few very lucrative bets going around.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, I noticed.” He squinted at her. “Steve thinks so, too?”

She shook her head. “No. He was making fun of James for even thinking it.” She laughed quietly, and raised a hand to mimic a light tremor. “He did have a few problems doing his tie.”

Tony chuckled. “The poor guy. You helped him?”

“No, but JARVIS did—in great detail. There were holographs and little anecdotes about the history of bow ties. Felt a bit like he was giving Steve his blessing or something. It was _very_ touching.”

Tony snorted at that. His creations were the best. “Really wish I’d seen that.”

“Oh, you will. Repeatedly. Clint made a video."

Tony shook his head with a grin. Then exhaled deeply and flexed his shoulders. “All right.” He took a last look at his watch, before he buttoned up his cufflinks. He flexed his hands a little when the buttons wouldn’t go through the sleeve holes on first try.

Natasha chuckled, as she came over to help him. “Look at that. I’m sensing a hint of nervousness, after all.”

Tony glared at her. For a fleeting instant, he thought about reprimanding her for making him acknowledge it. He wasn’t suicidal, though. Instead, he offered a solemn nod and said, “Not exactly nervous. The idea that we managed to make it here is just a bit too overwhelming to grasp.”

Natasha made a sound of mild amusement.

Tony raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“Steve said the exact same thing about ten minutes ago.”

Tony’s smile grew, and before he could give it too much thought, he had moved forward and brushed a tender kiss across Natasha’s cheek, mirroring her move from earlier. “Thank you.”

“Deep breaths,” she told him. “All will be well.”

“I know.” And he did. Doubt had abandoned him completely. No more worries. No more suffocation, no more panic attacks. Extremis had finally given him back his freedom, and Steve was the one he wanted to make use of it with.

He loved and was loved.

And for the first time in his life, he believed in the good days ahead for him.

When Tony looked up again, Natasha was gone. Only now that she’d left the room, now that Tony was left facing the open doorway, he was aware of the strong comfort she had offered him in those last minutes.

He blinked, eyes going black in an instant. _Is Pepper ready?_

_Miss Potts is awaiting you in the hallway._

_Good._ Tony took a deep breath. _That’s good._

_All will be fine, Tony._

Tony smiled at that. At the end of it all, it had only taken witnessing a little near-death experience for his AI to finally switch to a first name basis. _Yeah. Thanks, buddy._

As Tony made his way through the hallway, he couldn’t help but think how right all of this felt. Pepper had offered them various scenarios for this day. A small get-away on some island, a big, showy wedding in some huge New Yorker venue, a private wedding in the countryside. In the end they’d decided to have a small wedding in the tower, and throw a huge open-for-all party afterwards. Over the past two years, Tony had come to readily accept the place as his home—their home—and it was the only place that didn’t feel false for this event.

Just around the next corner, Pepper was waiting in a beautiful blue gown, and she looked ready to strangle anyone who even considered coming near his dressing room.

The look in her eyes when she noticed Tony approaching was almost too much. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a long hug, and when they let go again, a long breath rolled off Pepper’s shoulders and she placed one of her hands atop his thundering heart.

“You look perfect,” she said with a watery smile.

Tony cupped her cheek. “You know I love you, right?” he asked her.

“Oh, come on,” Pepper said with a light chuckle. “It’s far too late to win me over.” She put her hands on both sides of his face and pressed their foreheads together. “I am so, so happy for you.”

He knew it was true. Despite everything that could’ve once been between them, he knew Pepper wished him all the happiness in the world.

“Thank you. For all of it. Without you, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Pepper snorted. “Oh honey. Without me, you wouldn’t even have made it through the first half of the nineties.”

Tony shrugged. She sure was right about that. “That’s exactly what I was saying.”

“Now, come on,” she said and linked their arms together. “Let’s get you a husband.”

When Tony caught first sight of Steve, standing in front of the double swing door that would lead them onto the patio, looking perfectly edible in his dark blue dress uniform, Tony had to stop for a little moment.

In the last days, there had been so much to do. So much to plan. And for the first time, he had the chance to take a proverbial breath. To have a moment to simply rest in the face of incredible odds that had helped them get this far. That they had managed to pass all the hurdles set in their path and to come out stronger than ever on the other side.

He was aware how wondrous it was, that they’d been able to overcome these obstacle. That he was able to enjoy the warmth of Steve’s embrace every morning, to feel his body curled so lovingly around his. Two years ago, he couldn’t have envisioned being here. Two years ago, he’d been numb, cold and had fully resigned himself to his inevitable death. Until this stubborn man and his cheery disposition had somehow, amazingly, managed to pull him out of his stupor. Two years ago, the prospect of letting someone near had nearly killed him. And now, here he was. And he’d never felt closer to another human being in his life.

Slowly, he and Pepper made their way to where Steve was standing next to Natasha. The air around Tony’s head seemed to thicken. Through the glass doors behind them, he could see the forty something wedding guests on the patio. There was Happy, Coulson, Maria Hill and a few SHIELD agents they’d worked with closely over the years. Fury still looked like the idea of Steve and him was giving him a massive headache, but somehow—and he could’ve been fooled there, of course—it almost looked like there was the beginning of a smile on his mouth. _Maybe_.

The team didn’t sit in the front row. Instead, they all waited for them at the metaphorical altar, which really was just a tiny gallery in front of the ceiling-high glass windows of the tower’s winter garden. On Tony’s side, there were Rhodey and Bruce and—amazingly enough—Thor and Clint on Steve’s. The Asgardian had returned to earth about a month ago. He wasn’t living in the tower yet, but he would, once things had calmed down a little after what had happened in London.

At the end of the hallway, Pepper turned to him and gave his already perfect bow tie one last tiny tug.

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?” she asked with a warm smile.

Tony chuckled, and once more leaned down to kiss her rouged cheeks. “That will be all, Miss Potts.”

Then he turned around and suddenly his body tingled with awareness that hadn’t been there before. He stood at Steve’s side, their bodies now only inches apart. His mind was swarmed with implications, as their eyes finally locked. And in a wondrous blink of realization, Tony saw them through Steve’s eyes.

It was worth it. All of it. The stress of the past year, the terror of their fight against Aldrich Killian, the uncertainty of how Extremis would affect their relationship. Now that things had gone back to normal, Tony sometimes thought that with all the happiness in his body, he had difficulty finding enough air to feed his lungs.

“Hi,” Tony said, smiling up at Steve.

“Hi,” Steve answered, and then ignored every tradition ever written down about weddings and pulled Tony into his arms and kissed him deeply.

A low laughter vibrated through the audience, as they obviously watched them through the glass. Tony was probably sporting a huge, sappy grin, but what the Hell.

He was only going to get married once, after all.

When the music started playing, he took Steve’s hand in his, brushing over the place where his ring would be in a matter of minutes, and looked up at the man he loved above everything else.

“That was not according to the plan, soldier,” he said with another little smile.

Steve shrugged, his eyes open and full of love and happiness. Locked on him. Always with him. _Always_. “The best things usually aren’t.”

 

 

* * *

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That's it! Thank you all so much for the commentary, each kudos, and for every single message on tumblr (which I always love, so if you'd like to talk to me, just chat me up whenever <3). It really means the world to me, it's not just a phrase, every comment makes my day. I hope you enjoyed reading this, the good and the bad times... and I had TONS of fun writing this.
> 
> I plan on writing a CAP2 sequel, because implementing Bucky in this? Will. Be. AWESOME! I can't wait for starting on it and I hope you'll all be here for that, too ;)
> 
> And above all: Thanks dear morphia, who beta'ed the entire series so far. I couldn't have done this without your input. Thank you!
> 
> Me on Tumblr: [stark-spangled-lovers.tumblr.com](http://stark-spangled-lovers.tumblr.com)


End file.
